That's What Friends Are For
by tcsportsmed7
Summary: After Luke's dad goes public with his sexuality, his life spirals out of control. Ryan is there for him during his darkest hour. Meanwhile, a severe illness threatens to send the life that Ryan's been trying to build with the Cohens crashing down on him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, not even the adorable Ryan Atwood/Ben McKenzie. The OC universe and all of its characters were created by Josh Schwartz and owned by him as well. Don't sue me Josh! I mean it! No copyright infringement intended!

**A/N: **This story is set sometime during S1 in the spring time. Assume that the whole Oliver thing never happened, and Ryan is not dating anyone, but rather is just focusing on school. He's still not adjusted to living with the Cohens and is scared of getting kicked out. Also assume that Luke never leaves for Portland. There will be about 3 or 4 chapters to this probably (EDIT: Scratch that! This fic will be over 12 chapters more than likely!) The fic will eventually cover some darker aspects of Ryan's past. :) He also has a mysterious illness that you'll find out about as the story goes on...

**~*~*~*~CHAPTER ONE~*~*~*~**

"Hey, fag, why don't you go change with your boyfriend over there? I'm sure he'd love to see you naked," Evan Sanders asked Luke mockingly, pointing to Ryan who was pulling on his practice jersey on the opposite side of the locker room.

Evan was the soccer team's lead center forward or as Luke liked to call him _the cockiest bastard and biggest asshole on the team._ He'd been picking on Luke for months ever since the day everyone found out that Luke's dad had come out to his mom about being gay.

Ryan overheard Evan's jeering remarks, and turned in Luke's direction, making eye contact with him and throwing him a sympathetic glance. He noticed how his friend aggressively widened his stance, clenching both fists and tightening his jaw. Now fully dressed in his practice gear, Ryan began walking towards Luke's locker. He hoped that his presence would calm him down and prevent him from doing something stupid.

"Hey, man," Ryan greeted his friend, bumping fists with him before furtively patting him on the back and adding, "He's not worth it. Let's get to practice."

Luke nodded slightly, eyeing Ryan gratefully, but the tension remained visible in his body language. By now, he knew that Ryan was probably his only friend on the team and one of his only friends at Harbor.

"Why don't you two fruitcakes make out now?" Evan continued his taunting as the other two boys headed towards the door, hoping to make their way out to the field before the rest of their teammates finished changing.

"Shut the fuck up, Evan," Luke countered, turning around. He was now visibly shaking with anger as he took large steps towards Evan, noticeably closing the space between them.

"Luke, you don't wanna do this," Ryan reached for Luke's arm in an effort to stop him, but it was no use. Luke had already made his decision.

"And what if I won't? What are you gonna do about it, bitch? Run to your boyfriend over there? Or better yet… run to your daddy, crying? I'm sure he'd like that, wouldn't he, Luke?" Evan sneered, sizing Luke up.

The two teammates were now standing about two inches from each other.

"You're such a fag," Evan provoked further in a quiet yet derisive tone. He lunged forward, shoving Luke hard and causing him to stumble backwards.

Suddenly, all the memories of the hell he'd endured at Harbor the past few months caught up to him. He recalled getting assaulted by jerks in the hallway frequently in between classes, getting his tires slashed, and the look on the faces of people he once called friends who now ridiculed him and debased his reputation. A surge of anger overwhelmed every fiber in his body, and in a matter of seconds, he completely lost it, giving in to his pent up rage and embarrassment.

"You're dead!" Luke yelled as he slammed his body into Evan's full force, knocking him to the floor.

Now everyone's attention was on the developing fight.

Ryan froze.

He wasn't sure what to do. More than anything, he wanted to jump into the fight and help out his friend, but he knew he was still on probation, and he feared that if he got into a fight or got suspended, the Cohens would kick him out and he'd be homeless again—on his way back to foster care, a group home, or worse.

He watched as Luke's fists connected hard with Evan's jaw several times before Evan managed to pull him into a half nelson. Evan was clearly the more trained fighter, having wrestled for years, but Luke was fueled by adrenaline and raw emotions. Maneuvering around Evan's grip, Luke let his neck free and began slamming his elbow hard into Evan's face—all thoughts of reason leaving the teenager.

Ryan couldn't hold back any longer as he feared Luke was seriously injuring Evan, and he dived onto the floor behind Luke, trying to pull him off of the other boy and break up the fight.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing? Come on!" Ryan yelled, jostling Luke as hard as he could.

Luke's arms were swinging like a wild animal and one of his elbows accidentally hit Ryan in the mouth, causing the smaller boy to fall backwards, knocking the wind out of him for a few seconds. Quickly regaining his composure, Ryan tackled his friend, and pinned his arms down.

The mouth of every athlete in the room remained agape in astonishment.

By the time Luke finally calmed down, Coach Nielson had entered the room, immediately spotting Evan's unconscious body lying on the floor and running towards him. Blood slowly oozed from a large, open cut on the side of Evan's head, and the deep, red liquid also leaked from his mouth and nose. Worried by the scene in front of him, Coach Nielson hysterically began feeling for a pulse.

"Somebody call 9-1-1!" he ordered, fear and disappointment evident in his tone.

Luke was still shaking and obviously disoriented. From the position he was lying in on the floor, he couldn't see how badly he'd injured Evan.

Ryan remained by his side kneeling. He had a clear view of Evan's battered, still form. Swallowing nervously, a flustered Ryan made eye contact with Coach Nielson, and the grave expression his coach returned him caused his stomach to drop and a feeling of nausea to surface.

This was bad.

* * *

"Would somebody like to explain what the hell happened in here?" Coach Nielson asked the members of his team who had witnessed the fight—his voice elevated and irritable.

"Well?" He asked again furiously, but nobody answered.

"What about you, Ward? Would you like to enlighten me on what happened?"

Luke stood up, his gaze meeting Coach Nielson's.

"Evan called me a fag and dissed my dad. I got pissed and went to confront him. He shoved me hard and I kind of lost it and started hitting him. Ryan jumped in to get me off of Evan. I don't remember anything after that," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

At this point, he was just going through the motions. He didn't feel remorseful; in fact, if presented the same scenario with Evan, he'd do it again. He did, however, feel a tinge of regret since he knew this altercation meant he wouldn't get to play in the big game this weekend.

Still, he remembered that neither of his parents would be able to attend the game anyway.

"What difference does it make if I play or not?" he thought to himself sadly.

In his mind, he had no one.

He just wanted everything to be over, and he decided that he really didn't care how much trouble he was in anymore. Being suspended would surely be better than the hell he went through at school every day. Sure he had wanted to play in the game this weekend, but he was willing to sacrifice it if it meant not having to put up with guys like Evan.

The sound of Coach Nielsons's peevish voice quickly interrupted his dispirited thoughts.

"Is this true, Atwood?" The burly, middle aged man inquired, now facing Ryan.

When Coach Nielson looked into Ryan's piercing blue eyes, all he saw was apprehension and concern for Luke and Evan. Observing the teenager's appearance further, he also noted to himself that unlike Evan and Luke, his practice uniform was not torn. In fact, other than a small cut on his lip and a large, pink bruise that was slowly making itself visible on the left side of his chin, he had no apparent injuries and no redness on his knuckles. Putting together the pieces of the puzzle, Coach Nielson decided that Ryan was definitely not the instigator of the fight and that Luke was telling the truth.

"Yes, sir," Ryan answered softly, taking a deep breath. He was now staring down at his feet and fidgeting with his thumbs nervously—his shoulders slumped.

Coach Nielson sighed. Turning to face the other witnesses in the room, he continued his interrogation.

"Is there anyone in here who disagrees with Luke and Ryan's story?"

When nobody else spoke up, he headed towards the door where the paramedics were now making their way inside.

"Okay then," he said as he watched the paramedics begin attending to Evan. By the time they power lifted him onto a gurney, he was slowly regaining consciousness. They asked him a series of medical questions, and Luke sighed in relief at Evan's answers.

At least he didn't kill him, and from the looks of it he hadn't injured him too badly either.

"Okay. Enough of this lollygagging around! Everybody get outside and start running laps until I get out there! I hope you didn't think you'd get off practice that easily. There's a big game this weekend," Coach Nielson commanded his team before diverting his attention to Ryan, who was waiting around expectantly as if he thought he was in trouble.

"Atwood, go get some ice from the training room for that ugly bruise and go easy on the laps today… oh and I need to talk to you after practice."

"Yes, sir," Ryan answered again, relieved that he wasn't being suspended or sent to Dr. Kim's office.

"Ward, go wait outside of my office… I'll meet you there after the ambulance takes off. I'm calling Dr. Kim," Coach Nielson ordered Luke firmly.

"Whatever," Luke replied, his voice indifferent as he began the short trip to the office.

* * *

"All right, we're going to run through another short scrimmage… same teams as yesterday. When you're done, I want you guys to run three laps around the field and then you can go home for the day," Coach Nielson explained. "Atwood, I want you defending Childress intensely. Childress, remember. Keep your eyes on the goal. We'll end scrimmage after someone scores."

Ryan lethargically made his way back onto the grassy field and wiped a bit of sweat off of his forehead with his right hand. He was exhausted from the day's events and the intense California sun was tiring him even more—the humidity and pollen causing his allergies to flare up.

Moreover, he just couldn't get Luke out of his mind. He was worried about his friend, and he feared that there was nothing he could do to help him at this point.

The whistle blew, snapping Ryan out of his light brooding session.

It was time to play again.

He had to focus.

Chip Daniels passed the ball to Michael Satton who in turn head bunted the ball to Stephen Childress. Ryan tried to keep up as much as he could on his tired legs. He had battled allergy-induced sinusitis the previous week, and he hadn't yet gotten all of his strength back.

Childress passed the ball back to Satton, and reaching strenuously with his right leg, Ryan managed to intercept the ball and began maneuvering it as fast as he could in the opposite direction across the field towards the goal. He ran so fast that none of his other teammates could keep up with him before finally kicking the ball hard, aiming it at the goal.

"Score!" A few of his teammates exclaimed, relieved that for the most part, practice was finally over. Today had been a grueling two and a half hour session.

A fatigued Ryan collapsed into the grass, wheezing lightly. Slightly worried, Coach Nielson ran over to check on him. The last thing he wanted was to call another ambulance.

"Atwood, you alright?" the coach asked, concerned.

Fighting to catch his breath, Ryan groaned, "Mmm… fine."

"I don't want you running any more laps today. You're still not back to 100%, are you?"

Ryan merely shook his head.

Coach Nielson patted the teen's shoulder and helped him sit upright on the soiled grass hoping that the change in posture would open up Ryan's airway better.

He hated to admit it, but he'd grown a soft spot for Ryan. Despite his aggressive behavior towards Luke during try-outs much earlier in the season where he'd been suspended, there was something about the quiet boy that he admired. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew it had a lot to do with his incredible work ethic and teachable attitude despite playing striker—a position that most kids used for self-gratification. He also appreciated how supportive Ryan had been of Luke throughout much of the season. He knew that most of the kids on the team had been giving Luke a hard time ever since Carson Ward's homosexuality became public knowledge, and he appreciated Ryan's loyalty to his friend. However, regardless of his fondness for Ryan and the sympathy he felt for Luke much of the season as his other teammates picked on him, the fight between Luke and Evan was completely unacceptable.

Finally composed and breathing normally, Ryan spoke up, "Any news on Evan?"

"Not yet, but I'll keep in mind that you asked when his parents give me an update," Coach Nielson informed him.

"Hope he'll be okay," Ryan said sincerely.

"We all do," Coach Nielson added. He paused momentarily before changing the subject. "I needed to talk to you about the game Saturday. I need you to start as lead striker. You think you can do that?"

Ryan hesitated before answering.

He knew that Luke was the lead striker for the team, so if Coach wanted him to take Luke's spot in one of the biggest games of the season that meant Luke had to have been suspended for at least a week.

He exhaled deeply, disappointed by the possible length of Luke's suspension. He knew that Luke had been looking forward to playing in this weekend's game. It was the county championship and soccer had been the only thing keeping Luke sane _and_ so_ber _the past few weeks.

Ryan frowned at the thought of Luke drowning away his sorrows in alcohol. He'd caught him drunk several times over the course of the semester, and the only reason Luke had cut down on his drinking in recent weeks was because he wanted to play in this game and he hadn't been performing well in practice while hung over.

Ryan decided that the least he could do was play hard for Luke this weekend and perhaps dedicate the game ball to him.

"Sure…yeah," he finally responded, wrapping his arms around both legs and resting the side of his head on his knees.

He closed his eyes.

If the fatigue he was already feeling was any indication, this was going to be a long week. Normally he'd be excited about the opportunity to play as a starter in such an important game, but right now he just wanted to get back to the pool house and sleep.

"Alright, well go home and rest up. I need you in tip top shape this weekend, and by the way… good goal a few minutes ago," Coach Nielson complimented Ryan, and the muscular teen rewarded him with a tiny half-smile.

"Thanks," he said, before standing up and brushing the grass off of his shorts, and with that he ventured over to the locker room to retrieve his backpack.

He wondered how long Luke would be suspended. Would his friend be okay?

When he'd finally grabbed all of his belongings, he made his way over to the bicycle rack behind the locker room, unlocked his bike, and began the five mile ride home.

* * *

"The velocity is 3500 meters per second so if I plug in Planck's constant, the energy is…," Ryan mumbled to himself quietly as he continued to finish his chemistry homework before the approaching sound of Deathcab for Cutie caused him to lose his train of thought.

Noticing for the first time that Seth was standing next to his study desk listening to his iPod and carrying a shopping bag, Ryan glared at the dark, curly-haired boy hoping his foster brother would get the picture.

For once he wished someone would actually knock before entering the pool house. He had a lot on his mind, and wasn't quite in the mood to talk. Perhaps he should have locked the door. However, suddenly remembering that it was a privilege just to live there, he questioned his right to lock the door. The pool house belonged to the Cohens after all, and Seth certainly had more right to the large, heavily windowed room than he did.

Accordingly, Ryan softened his glare. Meanwhile, Seth finally took his headphones off and began his diurnal afterschool chatter.

"Ryan, my man… Long time, no talk."

"We had lunch together less than five hours ago," Ryan pointed out—a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Sometimes I prefer you when you didn't think you had a sense of humor. Anyway, what are you doing right now? Because I've got an awesome surprise… awesome is not even a good word to describe how great it is...try… epic… wait… here it is," Seth began pulling out a disc from the shopping bag he was carrying. "Waaait for it… waaaait for it…"

"It's just Battlestar Gallactica," Ryan shrugged when he finally saw what Seth had bought.

"Yes, Ryan. But not just any Battlestar Gallactica! It's the NEW Battlestar Gallactica and it's ready for us to play over a nice conversation about my day… or our days, not that you ever tell me anything about it anyway… while we eat loads of junk food before dinner! Plus I've got a lot to tell you about Summer and our little talk during homeroom…"

"I appreciate the offer, Seth, but I think I'm gonna have to pass tonight. I've got a lot of homework, and there's something important I've gotta do after."

"Something that's more important than Seth-Ryan time?"

Ryan sighed, but wasn't sure how to answer. He really cared about his foster brother and didn't want to risk hurting his feelings, especially since he felt he owed Seth for talking his parents into letting him live with them in the first place. He decided he'd just tell him the truth. He owed him that much at least.

"I've gotta check on Luke."

"Luke? You mean shaves his chest, water polo playing, gay dad Luke? You're passing up me and Battlescar Gallactica for him?" Seth asked—a hurt expression visible on the lanky boy's face.

"He had a really rough day. He's all alone."

"What about me? I'm all alone! Why do you even care so much about him? Doesn't it mean anything to you that he used to make my life hell? That he'd pee in my shoes and mock me and jerk me around?"

"Those things were wrong Seth, but he's apologized to you- many times. I think it's about time you forgive him. Besides, he's going through some tough issues and needs a friend."

"What happened today that is so bad you have to hang out with him tonight?"

"A kid at soccer practice wouldn't stop picking on him. They got in a fight. Both got suspended."

"Does that have anything to do with that big shiner on your chin?"

"Um… well… yeah," Ryan answered, ducking his head, slightly embarrassed that it probably seemed to Seth that he was living up to his reputation as 'Kid Chino' or 'fists of fury.' Then, suddenly he remembered that Sandy and Kirsten would also see the bruise on his chin when they came home—the very thought of that twisting his stomach into knots.

His shoulders tightened, and he scratched his head nervously. He couldn't afford to get in trouble, and he'd promised them he wouldn't get into anymore fights. Seth's response broke his distressed train of thought.

"Damn it. That sucks for Luke. Okay fine, you're right about him needing a friend, but when you get back, you owe me five hours of Seth-Ryan time."

"I'll give you six." Ryan agreed as he began putting his books away hastily. "And… Seth…could you do me a favor, please?"

"Anything for you, my man…what's up?"

"Could you tell Kirsten and Sandy where I am when they get back? I would call them, but I know they're both at that conference and I don't want to bother them," he explained as he arrived at his closet, reaching for a blue button up shirt to wear over his wife beater.

"Sure thing bro…"

"Thanks, Seth. I really appreciate it. We'll play Battlescar Gallactica tomorrow. I promise."

Seth smiled brightly at Ryan's last comment and Ryan headed for the door. He stepped outside, unlocking his bike and taking off to Luke's.

* * *

By the time Ryan finally arrived at Luke's house, the sun had already begun setting. He rang the doorbell and waited on the front porch for someone to answer but got no response. Anxious, he began pounding on the door, but as the minutes passed by, still nobody came to answer.

He knew that Luke's mom, Meredith, was probably out working late again, but where could Luke be? When he didn't see Luke's truck in the driveway, he became worried—the worst possible scenarios began running through his mind due to his knowledge of Luke's drinking problem.

Drinking? Driving? Accident?

Ryan swallowed hard and inhaled deeply trying to calm himself down. He knew he needed to stay positive as that was the only way he'd be able to help his friend. Finally, thinking rationally, he decided to walk around to the backyard to see if perhaps he'd find Luke there instead.

To his relief, he found him sitting on the patio deck, which he noticed was littered with a few empty bottles of beer and vodka.

"Hey Luke," Ryan greeted him, walking over to where the other boy was seated.

Luke looked up and nodded in recognition of his only friend.

"Hey," he slurred.

"Getting drunk again?" Ryan asked, sadly—recalling all of the nights he'd found Luke in some state of drunkenness this semester. Still he was relieved that Luke was at least sitting down as opposed to driving a vehicle.

"You've got that right," Luke answered sluggishly.

Ryan had seen it so many times before—first with his dad who used to beat him, Trey, and his mom in an alcoholic rage, then with his mom who always chose alcohol and her abusive boyfriends over him, and also in other painful memories he wasn't in the mood to think about. Now alcoholism seemed to be overtaking the friend he'd grown to trust the most in Newport.

"It's 7:30 on a weekday, man. Why are you doing this?" He inquired, concerned for his friend—although sadly he already knew the answer.

"What does it matter anyway? It's not like I'll be back in school tomorrow."

Ryan determined it wouldn't be an appropriate time to bring up what happened before soccer practice, so instead he changed the subject.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked, beginning to stand up.

"Not hungry," Luke shrugged his shoulders, indifferent.

"Come on. You've gotta eat something, right?" Ryan implored, offering Luke a hand up, which he reluctantly accepted. "I…uh… can get us a discount at the Crab Shack since I work there. Sound good?"

"Cool," Luke answered with a faint smile, revealing that his disinterested, tough guy act was merely a façade.

"I only brought my bike, but it's just a mile walk from here. Where's your truck by the way?" Ryan remembered.

"At the shop. Someone thought it'd be fun to bust the windshield and key mark the word 'faggot' on the bumper. Probably one of Evan's fucking friends…"

"Damn, man. I'm so sorry."

"It's cool. I probably need the fresh air anyways… "

The two boys began the mile walk to the Crab Shack. Ryan guided an unsteady Luke for much of the walk by placing his right arm behind Luke's back—the heavier teenager being too intoxicated to walk in a straight line on his own. It wasn't until they had nearly reached the restaurant that either boy spoke again.

"Hey, Chino?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. This means a lot."

"No worries," Ryan answered, playfully imitating the frequent vernacular of his friend. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a small, but sincere smile and he held Luke's gaze steadily—his eyes and demeanor expressing how much he cared for his friend. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright," he finished.

Despite the hard times Luke was facing, he couldn't help but smile gratefully at Ryan's comments. After all, it felt good to have someone on his side—even if it was just one person.

**A/N 2: In Ch. 2, Ryan will open up to Luke a little bit about his past. I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter, and if you feel compelled to do so, I always appreciate reading reviews. :)**

**TBC.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, not even the adorable Ryan Atwood/Ben McKenzie. The OC universe and all of its characters were created by Josh Schwartz and owned by him as well. Don't sue me Josh! I mean it! No copyright infringement intended!

**A/N: **Okay, so originally I said this story was going to be 3-4 chapters long. Well, let me take that back! This story is going to be long! Maybe 12-15 chapters? The reason? Well I expanded the plot. It has now changed into a Ryan-centric hurt/comfort story where Ryan is very ill, but it is still focused on the relationship between Ryan & Luke and also Ryan & Sandy. There is a decent amount of Ryan & Seth (and Cohens +1 in general) thrown in as the story goes on as well.

I apologize for the long wait on Ch. 2! My wonderful beta, beachtree, had some priorities in life to attend to and so did I, but hey... it's here now! And not that this makes up for waiting an entire month to post the second chapter, but for what it's worth, this chapter is LONG! Oh, and this chapter has Ryan/Luke time, Ryan/Sandy time, and Ryan/Seth time as well as some deep revelations from Ryan about his past. Well enough of my babbling!

Enjoy. ;-)

**~*~*~*~CHAPTER TWO~*~*~*~**

"I thought you'd be sick of this place by now after working here so much. I know I can't handle the food here anymore," A tall, slightly overweight gentleman in his late thirties with short, jet black hair and green eyes greeted Ryan. He was a waiter at The Crab Shack and now worked alongside Ryan during the weekends.

"Yeah, you'd think," Ryan grinned lightheartedly, relaxing a little and bumping fists with his co-worker. He'd been working there for several months now and had good rapport with all of the other employees.

"You probably just can't get enough of us. What can I say? We're cool people," the middle-aged man added slyly.

"Yeah," Ryan said, with a slight nod of his head, pressing his lips together into a thin smile.

Finally noticing the other boy sitting across from Ryan in the small booth of the diner, Nick turned to face him.

Realizing that the two had probably never met, since Nick was a fairly new employee and Luke rarely visited the diner anymore, Ryan took the initiative and introduced his friend.

"Nick, this is my friend, Luke," he said.

"It's very nice to meet you, Luke," Nick smiled, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, Luke shook it.

It was a delayed reaction, but finally Luke agreed, "You too."

He was merely going through the motions, and clearly not in the mood for idle conversation.

"So, are you guys ready to order?" Nick asked readily.

"I think so," Ryan replied before turning to his friend and asking, "You good?"

"I guess," Luke answered, but Ryan could tell that dinner was the furthest thing from his mind.

Not wanting to keep Nick waiting any longer, Ryan ordered.

"I'll have a lobster roll with fries, please."

"I could have guessed that," Nick chuckled at Ryan's eating habits. He always seemed to order the same thing. "And let me guess… you want a Mountain Dew for your drink?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered shyly, his cheeks turning slightly red. "You know me," he added, swallowing hard in an effort to rid his lungs of the tingling sensation that had been building.

"Well… working with you so much tends to do that," Nick laughed lightly before promptly turning to face Luke, still smiling.

Unable to hold back the irritable feeling in his chest any longer, Ryan began to cough.

"You sick?" Nick asked, turning back around to face Ryan again.

"Don't think so…" he managed to say in between coughs. "Nothing bad…"

His chest felt a little bit tight and he wasn't feeling very well, but he decided that for now it would be best not to worry about it. Instead, he began thinking of what he could do or say to cheer Luke up.

"The school nurse told him it was allergies. He had sinusitis all last week," Luke clarified, the severity of Ryan's cough bringing him back to reality for a moment. He was a bit worried that Ryan's cough seemed to be getting worse.

"Make sure you're taking care of yourself, Ryan. If you need a break from everything, take it," Nick counseled, also concerned for his co-worker's health.

Ryan was his favorite person to work with, and he knew the quiet kid sometimes overtaxed himself—often staying overtime without pay to help other employees with their shifts. He determined that if Ryan was like that on the job, he must be like that in school too.

"Guys, I'm fine," Ryan protested as his cough finally receded.

"If you say so," Nick humored him, regaining eye contact with Luke whose mind seemed to have drifted.

"Have you decided what you're getting yet?" He asked Luke, waiting patiently for his order.

"Luke," Ryan prodded, also trying to get his attention. "You ready to order, man?"

"Oh…um… fish and chips I guess," Luke replied, glancing at Nick, but still seemingly detached from the brief discourse. His mind had again wandered back to his problems—not to mention he still didn't know how badly he'd injured Evan.

"And what would you like to drink with that?" Nick continued attending to him.

Nick waited patiently as almost a minute passed without any further response from Luke who appeared to have zoned out completely.

"Luke," Ryan cued, audibly enough for his friend to hear him. "You know what you're having to drink?"

Forgetting for a minute where he was, Luke responded languidly, "I could use a few beers right about now."

Puzzled, Nick hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Can I see some ID please?"

"Nah, he'll have a Coke," Ryan quickly covered for Luke, saving him from further embarrassment.

Confused, Nick confirmed the order, "Alright... a lobster roll with fries and a Mountain Dew and one order of fish and chips and a large Coke, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan shook his head.

"Okay, that'll be ready in about fifteen minutes."

Nick took up their menus and began the short walk to the kitchen area of the restaurant. Shortly after, he returned with their drinks before leaving again.

When Nick was finally gone, Ryan reverted his full attention back to Luke, but worry quickly flooded his thoughts as he took in Luke's dejected posture.

By now, Luke sat on his side of the booth staring out of the window with his right elbow resting on the table while his chin rested in the palm of his right hand, propping his head up. His left hand remained in the pocket of his gray, Nike sweatshirt. Ryan could tell that Luke was depressed, and he wondered if he was almost sober from his drinking binge earlier in the day.

"Luke?" Ryan tried to get his attention, but Luke didn't answer so he tried again.

"Luke? You alright, man?" he asked, concerned.

Finally, Luke responded—still looking out the window.

"Look at all these people walking outside…," he paused before continuing. "They're all talking to their boyfriends or girlfriends or buddies, gossiping… without a care in the world… no shit to worry about."

"You don't know that," Ryan replied.

Caught off guard by Ryan's comment, Luke turned his head to make eye contact with him, now fully intrigued by what he had to say. It was rare that Ryan ever opened up, but when he did, there was something thought-provoking about his insight that Luke was in awe of.

"Everyone's got something beneath the surface they try to hide," Ryan finished, lowering his head slightly and looking up to hold Luke's gaze—a thoughtful, but intense expression on his face.

Luke wasn't sure how to answer, so he merely nodded his head once slowly, acknowledging his respect for Ryan's perspective. He understood that Ryan's words were loaded, and he couldn't help but wonder how much pain his friend often hid beneath his own exterior.

He didn't know much about Ryan's past, but from the little he did know, he wondered how petty his own issues probably seemed to him. Still, Ryan never complained or made him feel as if his problems were unimportant, and for that Luke was grateful.

The two boys remained in silence for a few moments—both sitting pensively in the diner until Luke finally broke the silence again.

"Everything's just so fucked up now," he stated gloomily. "How did my life get so out of control?"

Ryan knew the question was rhetorical, so rather than answering, he just wanted Luke to know that he understood.

"You wanna… talk about it?" He offered.

"Not really," Luke answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know the feeling," Ryan confessed sadly—his deep blue eyes maintaining eye contact with his friend. The left corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a small, knowing half smile before he regained his contemplative expression.

Another bout of coughing interrupted the conversation as Ryan fought to gain control of his breathing.

"Doing alright there, Chino?"

"Yeah, it's… nothing," Ryan answered, slightly annoyed that the cough was persisting.

He couldn't handle people hovering over him or worrying so he hoped the cough would get better before the Cohens noticed it.

* * *

A few minutes later, Nick returned with their dinners.

"Here's the lobster roll with fries and an order of fish and chips," He said, setting their food on the table.

"Thanks, Nick," Ryan responded politely, holding his breath momentarily to try to prevent another coughing fit.

"No problem," Nick responded.

"Actually, can we get that to go, please?" Ryan changed his mind.

"Yeah, yeah… of course. Want me to put it on your tab?"

"Yeah, that works. I'll tell Bill to take it out of my paycheck."

"Alright, I'll be right back," Nick said.

Ryan noticed Luke's baffled expression so he explained, "I think we should just get out of here, you know? I've got a baseball in my backpack. I figured we'd head to the park across the street—eat there and hang out…"

Ryan's thoughtful expression let on more than he was saying verbally, and Luke understood that the real reason he was doing this was so that they'd have some alone time to talk about things.

At this realization, a grateful Luke softened his expression, merely saying, "Thanks."

Ryan nodded, a small smile forming on his lips—his silent way of saying _you're welcome. _He grabbed his backpack and the two boys stood up as Nick was approaching the table with their bagged dinners.

"Thanks again, Nick," Ryan said as Nick handed him the two bags.

"It's not a problem. You working this weekend?"

"Actually, I've got a really important soccer game, but I'm doing the Thursday shift after school," he answered.

"Alright, see you then. Good to meet you again, Luke," Nick replied, and Ryan and Luke headed out of the Crab Shack to begin the short walk to the park.

* * *

After Ryan and Luke arrived at the park, they found a spot on a bench and quietly ate their meals.

"I didn't realize how hungry I was," Luke smirked, finishing the rest of his fish and chips. It was the first time either boy had spoken for almost twenty minutes.

"Guess it's good I took you out then," Ryan smiled, taking another bite of his lobster roll.

"You've barely touched your food though," Luke observed Ryan's half eaten entre and untouched fries.

Not willing to admit that he wasn't feeling well, Ryan changed the subject.

"So how's your mom doing? I haven't seen her in a while."

"Not good. It's the same old thing, you know? My dad really hurt her. The divorce won't be finalized for a while, but it hit her hard and she's never home anymore. She was pissed about my suspension. Me getting in trouble was the last thing she needed."

"That sucks, man. I hope things get better for you guys," Ryan said sincerely. "How long will you be out of school?"

"Not sure yet. Me and my mom meet with Dr. Kim tomorrow to determine that. I'm guessing at least a week."

"Soccer practice isn't the same without you," Ryan stated and Luke offered him a faint smile, thankful for his support.

"At least I won't have to put up with dicks like Evan for a while. I don't think I could stop myself from kicking their asses at this point."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed.

Both boys remained silent momentarily before Luke got the courage to ask Ryan what was on his mind.

"Hey, um…," Luke hesitated nervously, clenching and unclenching his fists as he spoke. "Do you ever… you know… miss your dad?"

He was fearful that he'd asked too much.

Not expecting the question, Ryan took a deep breath and rubbed his fingers through his shaggy dark blond hair. He didn't have many positive memories from his childhood, and there was a reason he didn't like to talk about it. However, his gut instincts kept telling him that if he didn't have this important conversation with Luke, he would never get the chance again to help him.

The past several weeks, Ryan had observed dolefully as Luke indulged himself in alcohol, becoming almost completely shut off from the outside world as he used the potent liquid as a means to numb himself from the pain and turmoil that he was too afraid to face. The mere possibility of his friend's downward spiral worsening made Ryan uneasy, sending a chill throughout his tensing body.

Ryan knew that Luke's state had become volatile to the point where even a small, additional setback could send him over the edge. Hoping that a more balanced perspective was what his friend needed, he warily allowed himself to risk opening up a little.

Slowly, he switched his gaze from Luke's conflicted eyes to the small hole he was nervously creating as his right boot dug into the patch of grass beneath him. He began to answer the question cautiously, giving just enough information about himself to help his friend without lowering his guard completely.

"Not really… I mean… honestly? I don't really have many good memories of him."

Ryan hesitated momentarily as painful flashbacks began to muffle his thought process. In deep thought, he closed his eyes slowly—subconsciously calculating how much he was ready to reveal to Luke about the haunting childhood he wished he could forget. Finally, after almost a minute, he re-opened his eyes and was ready to speak again.

"He got arrested when I was eight, and before that…," He trailed off and winced at the unpleasant memories of how his father used to treat him. "He…um… didn't really like me I guess," he finished, regaining eye contact with his friend.

Luke was having difficulty processing what Ryan had just told him. The more he learned about his friend's struggles growing up, the more he realized how good he had it compared to him. Unsure of how to respond, he merely nodded his head in appreciation of his friend's difficult revelation—his rueful expression not going unnoticed by Ryan.

"You miss yours?" Ryan asked, knowing the answer already but sensing it would be helpful for Luke to talk about it.

"Yeah… I mean… I thought about what you said that night after my mom found out for the first time. He lied, but he still loved me. We still had good times together. I wish he could've stayed, but he left to make it easier for my mom to deal with everything."

Ryan smiled at Luke sympathetically. His cobalt blue eyes were fierce but compassionate, speaking volumes in and of themselves. Without even uttering a word in reply, Luke knew how much Ryan cared and understood what he was going through and that's all he could ask out of a friend.

"I wish I could be strong like you," Luke confessed.

"How do you mean?" Ryan asked, taken aback by Luke's admission.

He restlessly wrapped his arms around his midsection and inhaled again deeply—the tickle in his lungs triggering his cough. After regaining control over his airway, he bit his bottom lip as more and more hurtful images resurfaced from the past he couldn't escape, entangling themselves in the labyrinth of his already conflicted mind.

He had tried his entire life to be strong, but trying never saved him from getting his ass kicked by his dad or his mom's boyfriends. It never stopped him from falling off of his bike and breaking his arm when he was seven, only for his dad to beat him with the buckled end of a leather belt after finding out that Ryan's hospital bill that day cost more than his dad's stash of cocaine.

Ryan's effort certainly was never good enough to protect Dawn or stop her from almost overdosing on heroine when he was twelve.

It was never good enough for her to go to rehab for her alcoholism.

It was never good enough for her to choose him over AJ.

It was never good enough to protect him or Trey, and it definitely never got him anywhere but kicked out and abandoned.

Hell, it wasn't even good enough for Theresa to choose him over Eddie.

He had concluded from a young age that if anything, he wasn't good enough to be wanted and certainly not strong enough to protect himself from getting hurt, although he was definitely capable of taking care of himself as he had sadly proven so many times before.

He knew that most people saw him as being worth nothing more than damaged goods, and he couldn't shake the thought that the Cohens probably viewed him the same way.

If his own mother didn't want him, why should they?

Sooner or later he believed they'd get sick of him too and get rid of him, probably for corrupting Seth. It was only a matter of time, although he prayed every night that he was wrong.

For fear of abandonment, he preferred to remain inconspicuous. Perhaps if they didn't notice him, they at least wouldn't grow to hate him enough to kick him out.

Luke's answer interrupted Ryan's distressed thoughts.

"You went through all this shit, yet you seem to have it so together," He explained.

"Together?" Ryan asked—his ocean blue eyes now studying Luke's intently. Did Luke really think he had his life together?

"Yeah, I mean… for the most part you stay out of trouble. You try really hard in school. The Cohens are lucky to have you."

Fidgeting with his hands anxiously, Ryan responded.

"You know… every day I'm worried that I'll mess up everything here and… get sent to a group home or something."

This admission surprised Luke, but he didn't know what to say in response. As much as his home life sucked, talking to Ryan was helping him realize how lucky he was to have at least grown up in a stable home environment.

"Can I ask you something?" Luke asked.

Ryan nodded so Luke continued.

"Why are you so against me having a few drinks?"

"You know it's more than just a few drinks, Luke."

"Whatever," Luke shrugged. "It helps me feel better."

Ryan let out an agitated sigh. Talking so much was wearing him out, and Luke seemed dead set on continuing his drinking habit. Not to mention the unpleasant feeling in Ryan's throat was returning. Hoping to alleviate the dryness in his mouth and prevent another bout of coughing, Ryan reached for his Mountain Dew and took a small swig of the yellow-colored soda while absentmindedly putting the remainder of his barely touched dinner into the plastic container. He then focused his attention back on Luke, taking in his friend's still crestfallen demeanor. However, the irritation he was feeling towards him was quickly replaced with concern as he realized for the first time that his once bright blue eyes had become dull and lackluster—emptiness and defeat robbing them of the energy they once emitted.

Determined not to let another person he cared about give up on life, Ryan locked eyes with Luke, willing his friend through his piercing gaze to understand the seriousness of what he was about to tell him.

"Drinking doesn't fix anything," He said, his voice shaking slightly from the building tension in his jaw. The gravity of his tone was severe, and his words came out in a breathy, quiet inflection—almost at a whisper, but he spoke with so much conviction that Luke couldn't help but be in awe of his friend for the second time that night.

Ryan inhaled and exhaled sharply before continuing.

"After you sober up the next day, your problems are still there, aren't they?" He pointed out.

Pausing again and lowering his head, he stared at the ground as he divulged, "I wanted my mom to get this, but she never did. I guess… seeing people I care about drink to deal with stuff… it just brings back bad memories… a lot of old issues I'm not ready to talk about."

He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and lifted his head to once again make eye contact with Luke.

His eyes burned with sincere emotions as he finished, "I don't want to see that happen to you."

He wasn't ready to go into details with Luke about his mom and her alcoholism, and he wasn't ready to talk about the incident with Trey that turned him off of alcohol abuse for good, but he hoped that at least for now, this answer was sufficient to help his friend.

Deeply touched by Ryan's words, Luke was rendered speechless.

Suddenly another round of coughing got the better of Ryan, intruding on their profound conversation—this one causing him to double over, holding his chest and wheezing slightly.

"Damn, buddy… you sound like you're coughing up a lung."

"I feel like it too," Ryan mumbled dryly.

When Ryan finally caught his breath, he remembered that he'd brought his baseball and he reached into his backpack to grab it.

"Wanna play?" He asked Luke, holding the ball in his left hand.

Shrugging his shoulders, Luke answered glumly, "Not really in the mood."

"Maybe it'll make you feel better. Less thinking, anyway."

"Sure, why not," Luke finally conceded.

The two friends made the short, fifty foot walk onto the park's grassy practice field, and without warning, Ryan playfully tossed Luke the ball. He ran further out onto the grass, waiting for Luke to toss it back to him.

He watched as Luke widened his stance, leaning forward slightly and rotating his right shoulder towards him in preparation for the throw. Keeping a firm grip on the ball, Luke finally shifted his weight to his rear leg and wound his right arm backwards. With a fast, circular motion, he threw the ball as hard as he could, letting out an exasperated grunt.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" He yelled, venting some of his frustration with life and releasing some of the tension in his muscles.

Astutely keeping his eyes on the ball, Ryan ran backwards as fast as he could and leaped into the air to catch it—the momentum throwing off his balance as he landed on his back on the damp grass. He immediately started coughing.

Noticing Ryan lying limp on the ground, Luke panicked and sprinted towards him. Much to his relief, his friend was already sitting up and brushing off his pants by the time he reached him.

"Chino, what the fuck was that?" He questioned, clearly worried.

"Sorry," Ryan managed to say in between bouts of coughing. His cough was worsening by the minute.

"You okay?" Luke was becoming very concerned about Ryan's health.

"Yeah," Ryan lied. He was having difficulty breathing, but he didn't want to concern Luke who already had his share of problems.

"Let me help you up," Luke offered, holding out his hand and Ryan accepted it, pulling himself off the grass.

"Where'd you learn to catch like that?" Luke asked, curious.

"Played second base in little league and then middle school. Chino is decent training ground."

"Why'd you stop?"

"Not really in the mood to talk about it," Ryan answered honestly. He'd had his quota of bad memories for the day.

"I was a pitcher," Luke revealed.

"Well… you know, your throw isn't too bad," Ryan smirked, his cough now diminished to a light wheezing sound. "Almost gave me a hernia."

By now Ryan could tell that Luke was completely sober and in a better mood.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

Luke offered a grateful smile and simply answered, "Yeah."

Ryan also smiled faintly and draped a shoulder behind Luke's back as the two friends walked back to the bench.

"We better get going. I've got a chemistry quiz tomorrow," Ryan simply stated, not wanting to let on how ill he was feeling.

"No worries," Luke said. "I should probably call a taxi. That way you don't have to walk all the way back to my house."

"What about my bike?"

"I'll pay for your taxi. They can drive us to my house first and pick it up and then drop you off at the Cohens' with your bike."

"You'd do that?"

"You helped me a lot tonight. I owe you."

Ryan eyed Luke gratefully and sat back down while Luke called the taxi.

He was exhausted.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already midnight. He'd have to stay up to finish studying for his chemistry quiz. He couldn't afford to have his grade drop anymore in that class.

The Cohens were paying for him so he figured the least he could do was get good grades. He dreaded staying up all night considering how fatigued his body felt, and he was also sore from Coach Nielson's grueling practice session earlier in the day, but as long as Luke was feeling better, he decided it would all be worth it.

* * *

By the time Ryan arrived back at the pool house, it was nearly one in the morning. He tried to be as quiet as possible in order to not disturb Sandy, Kirsten, or Seth who he figured were probably sleeping.

His cough was worsening and his stiff muscles were aching more by the minute—especially his quadriceps and iliopsoas. Hoping that the hot water would open up his airway, wake him up, and loosen up his muscles, he opted for a warm shower before hitting the books.

Normally, he didn't like to pull all-nighters, but he knew he was behind in chemistry and he had a lot of material to cover. Besides, he figured the bad memories that had resurfaced after his in-depth conversation with Luke would probably mean nightmares were a sure thing, since talking about his past always seemed to do that, so if staying awake meant preventing that, he was down for it.

* * *

"Ryan, are you in here?" Sandy asked, knocking on the pool house door. When he heard no response, he opened the door and walked in, looking for Ryan.

Hearing the footsteps from outside his bathroom door, Ryan gasped—anxiety intensifying his pulse rate and causing an upset feeling in his stomach.

He hoped he wasn't in trouble. His curfew was midnight, and he certainly had broken it tonight.

Having just finished showering, his hair was still very damp. In a rush, he pulled on a white t-shirt and a gray pair of sweatpants and cautiously opened the bathroom door of the pool house, stepping into the spacious room to find Sandy sitting on the large, king-sized bed.

The first thing Sandy noticed as he watched Ryan slowly make his way towards the center of the room was the large, darkening bruise on his chin, but sensing Ryan's nervousness, he decided not to bring it up and instead made an attempt to lighten the tension in the room.

"Wow, am I that terrifying? And here I thought I was charming!" he chuckled, his black bushy eyebrows and kind eyes helping to relax Ryan a little bit.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to miss curfew…I…," Ryan said hurriedly, but Sandy cut him off.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's water under the bridge. Seth told me you were helping Luke," he assured the skittish teenager.

Relieved that he wasn't in trouble, Ryan sighed—the small intake of air triggering his cough.

"That's quite a cough you've got there. Maybe we should set up an appointment with Dr. Canales and have her take a look at you," Sandy suggested.

"No. I'm fine, really. It's not that bad."

"Okay, but if it gets worse, please don't be afraid to come to me and talk about it. I'm on your side," he assured Ryan—the bashful teen rewarding him with a tiny, but appreciative smile.

If Sandy hadn't noticed Ryan's eyes light up ever so slightly, he wouldn't have even noticed he was smiling. It amazed Sandy sometimes how well Ryan was able to hide his emotions, and it saddened him to think about what the kid must have endured his entire life to make him fearful of expressing himself around others.

"Thanks, Sandy," Ryan said, his words quiet, but earnest.

"Hey, that's what I'm here for."

Ryan wanted so much to be like Sandy, and it meant the world to him to hear that his mentor was on his side. Sometimes he feared it was too good to be true.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention. Your coach called. He had said he wanted to talk to you in his office in the morning before school."

Ryan's stomach tightened nervously at the news. Was Coach upset with him? Had Evan given him a different account of what happened than him and Luke? Perhaps Evan blamed him for assault too? He knew Evan didn't like him very much…

"Am…I," Ryan swallowed hard. "Am I in trouble?"

"No! You're not in trouble. I'm sure he would have told me if you were. I know you didn't start the fight before practice. He just said he wanted to talk to you about something private."

A feeling of relief flooded Ryan's veins. He wasn't in any trouble and he relaxed a little bit, feeling more at ease now that he knew Sandy wasn't mad at him.

"How's Luke holding up? I heard about what happened," Sandy asked.

Ryan frowned slightly, and Sandy could see worry etched in his benevolent features. He patted an empty space next to him on Ryan's bed, signaling for his foster son to sit next to him.

Although Ryan was still fairly timid around Sandy, he obliged, taking a seat on the bed next to the man he looked up to the most—the man who had saved him.

Staring down at his hands, Ryan answered, "Not so good. I mean… he still seemed down on the ride home."

Ryan pursed his lips together tightly and then inhaled—coughing a little bit as he did so before adding, "I think talking to him about stuff helped though."

"You? Talking? I'd have to see it to believe it," Sandy joked affectionately.

"I save it for when it counts," Ryan countered, sporting a lopsided grin.

"Well if you'd ask me, Luke's lucky to have someone like you on his side. You're a good kid."

"Yeah?" Ryan asked, searching Sandy's eyes for honesty.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," Sandy replied meaningfully.

Ryan wanted to believe his foster father more than anything, but for most of his life, he'd been lied to—betrayed by the people he'd loved the most, making him reluctant to trust people.

Nevertheless, he was slowly learning to trust Sandy, and any sort of compliment from him carried immense weight.

"Your coach told me about Saturday's game. I'm proud of you, kid. Playing striker in the county championship is a big deal," Sandy said, squeezing Ryan's left shoulder.

Ryan wasn't used to any sort of affectionate physical contact from parental figures, but oddly Sandy's gesture relaxed him.

"Thanks," Ryan replied as he ducked his head—the corners of his mouth quirking upwards into a tiny grin.

Could Sandy really be proud of him?

Was he _worth_ being proud of?

Ryan was scared to ask the question that had been lingering in his mind for the past few minutes, but he decided it was now or never.

"Will you be at the game?" He asked shyly, now locking eyes with his foster father.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Sandy replied.

He hadn't been able to make most of Ryan's games over the course of the semester after taking the job at Partridge, Savage and Kahn, but he was going to make every effort to be in attendance at Ryan's first game as a lead striker for Harbor.

Sandy's heart warmed at the sight of the radiant smile that lit his foster son's face as he mentioned going to his game.

It wasn't very often that Sandy got to see such a raw display of emotion play across Ryan's normally guarded features, but when he did, he remembered just how special this boy really was.

It was these rare, but precious moments between him and Ryan that he cherished the most—getting a glimpse of the vulnerable, but sweet boy who resided beneath the layered mask that often made him seem much older than his age.

"Well I'm gonna hit the sack, but try to get some sleep tonight. Don't study too hard," Sandy said, pushing himself off the bed. He gave Ryan's shoulder another squeeze before walking towards the door and adding, "Night."

After Sandy left the room, Ryan pulled out his textbooks and notes in preparation for his all-night cramming session.

Although still physically and mentally exhausted, it felt good knowing that perhaps for the first time, he truly had someone who believed in him.

* * *

Four hours later, Seth walked into the pool house to find Ryan sitting in his study chair asleep on his book.

"Ryaaan," Seth tapped his foster brother on the back trying to wake him. "Oh, Ryaaaaan," he repeated, but Ryan remained sound asleep, his face and arms sprawled across the study desk, so Seth decided to try a different approach to waking him up.

He tiptoed into the kitchen _stealthily_ and filled an empty cup with ice before heading back to the pool house.

Before opting for plan B of _Operation Wake Up Kid Chino_, he decided to try plan A one more time.

"Ryaaaan," he murmured, shaking his best friend's shoulder.

This time he got a response.

"Mmmmm," Ryan mumbled into his chemistry book. "Let me sleep," he grumbled before drifting off again.

"I guess I'll go with plan B then," Seth snickered quietly, rubbing his palms together and grinning widely. He reached for a couple of ice cubes and slipped them inside the back of Ryan's white t-shirt.

Ryan gasped, his head jumping up immediately from his book at the sensation of cold ice falling down his back.

"Seth? What the hell?" He exclaimed.

His head was throbbing, and although he hated to admit it, his chest felt tight, making it difficult to breath. He was definitely feeling worse than he had just a few hours before.

"Ryan! My favorite Gentile! Well... other than my petite, Anglican mother. Good morning! I always knew you weren't a morning person. It's good to see you too. Anyway, rise and shine! It's Seth-Ryan time!"

Ryan glared at Seth before turning his head in the direction of his alarm clock to get a glimpse at the time.

"_He keeps showing up earlier and earlier,"_ he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Seth asked, pretending he didn't hear what Ryan said.

"No. But Seth, it's 5:30 in the morning. Do we have to do it this early?"

"Yes, Ryan. You see you told me we'd do six hours of Seth-Ryan time today, but I found that you won't get out of soccer practice until 5. You go to bed at 12 usually. That leaves us 7 hours for Seth-Ryan time, but that doesn't include time for showering and dinner with the rents and… my most dreaded of them all—_homework_, so if we start now, we may actually be able to fit in six hours."

"We have lunch together. That's almost an entire hour."

"Yes, I forgot about that. Okay, but still. I have so much to talk to you about so the earlier the better…"

"I guess," Ryan capitulated. The irritable feeling in his lungs was returning, and he was hoping he'd be able to prevent himself from coughing too much in front of Seth. The last thing he needed was Seth hovering over him too.

"So how'd your rendezvous with Luke go last night? You still have chest hair, right? Please tell me you still have chest hair," Seth said.

"What? That's none of your business."

"Just trying to make sure the evil water polo forces aren't stealing away my best friend. The chest hair is always the first thing to go…"

"What are we talking about again?"Ryan asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Luke. He shaves his chest."

"Seth," Ryan glared.

"Right, sorry….," he paused briefly before continuing his endless chatter.

"So Summer called me last night, and you're never going to believe what she said to me. Ryan, she called me sweet, but not sweet in a fruitcake kind of way. She thinks I'm nice… Do you think she finds me physically attractive too… you know, maybe she thinks of me in an _Offspring_ 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy' kind of way? Or do you think she just finds me sweet?"

"Just sweet, definitely, but Seth… I've got a….chemistr-," Ryan tried again to say something, but to no avail so he stood up and started organizing his things while Seth followed him around the room talking about Summer.

"Hypothetically let's say she thinks I'm hot too. I mean I'm a good looking guy, right? I mean… not good looking in a Brad Pitt kind of way, but I've got my own charm… maybe more like Screech from Saved by the Bell? I mean some ladies love the Screech. So, Ryan, I think that together you and me can come up with a plan for me to win over her cold, icy heart…don't you?" Seth continued.

Ryan raised his left eyebrow quizzically, holding Seth's gaze–a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"I'll take that as a yes," Seth said before babbling on.

Shrugging his shoulders, Ryan began packing his backpack, remembering that he had to be in Coach Neilson's office before school. He became so preoccupied with everything he had to do that he almost forgot Seth was talking to him.

"So what do you think, Ryan?" the lanky, curly-haired boy asked.

"Huh?" Ryan said, confused. "Oh, sorry. Yeah, that sounds great, but hey, if it's okay... I'm going to go take a shower. I've got a chemistry quiz today and I'm not really ready for it," he said, trying hard to keep himself from coughing.

"Right… I guess I'll leave you then," Seth said glumly, disappointed that his morning chat with Ryan was already over. "But if you want some company after you finish," Seth started, but upon seeing the familiar glare on Ryan's face, he said, "Chemistry quiz. Got it. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me… all alone thanks to you… sipping on my coffee, eating a bagel, reading a comic, and listening to Deathcab. I hope you feel really guilty right about now…"

"Seth…"

"Right. See ya."

After Seth left the room, Ryan let out a sigh and hopped into the tub, ready to take a cold shower to wake himself up.

He was relieved that his foster brother hadn't noticed his uneven breathing.

He felt fatigued and short of breath, but he hoped that if he kept his bearings, he'd make it through the day.

Suddenly, he began to cough uncontrollably, and his chest heaved painfully as he struggled for air. It felt as if a knife was piercing his lungs—the strain on his airway forcing him to kneel down, holding onto the ceramic tub for support as he continued to cough. Gasping desperately in an effort to get enough oxygen, he finally passed out due to the fatigue.

* * *

About two hours later, the loud sound of Seth pounding on his bathroom door jolted him awake.

"Ryan, buddy… you in there?"

After getting no response, Seth tried again.

"Ryan?"

"Just a minute, Seth," Ryan finally answered, his voice raspy. Worried that he was holding up his foster brother, he willed his aching muscles to pull himself out of the tub. He didn't want Seth to be late to school because of him. However, as he shifted his weight upwards in an effort to get out, a sharp pain around his chest cavity immediately held him back, and he slipped back in—banging his hip against the tub's ceramic lining.

He let out a quiet whimper and shut his eyes tightly as a wave of excruciating pain disoriented his thoughts. When he finally gained enough composure to reopen his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hands. Observing them closer, he noticed a thick, greenish-yellow substance covering them. Curious, he looked over to the side of the tub where his arms had been resting, and saw it there too.

Mucus.

His heartbeat quickened and his stomach churned with anxiety as he struggled out of the tub and began wiping its cool, white surface down with a paper towel.

Whatever bug he had seemed far worse than just sinusitis or allergies.

"Dude, hurry up. We're going to be late. Did you fall into the toilet or something? Or let me guess… you're shaving your chest," said the lanky boy on the other side of the door.

"I said wait a minute," Ryan reacted, growing agitated with the situation. However, it wasn't Seth he was upset with, but rather he was upset at himself for forgetting the past few minutes, though he had been distracted by blinding physical pain, that his foster brother was waiting on the other side of the bathroom door for him, ready to head to school.

Realizing that he didn't have time to take a shower, he hastily threw on his clothes, pulled a comb through his messy, dark blonde hair, and brushed his teeth.

"Shit," he muttered quietly to himself as he glanced at his complexion in the mirror.

There were heavy bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he wanted so badly to shave and take a shower. The dark purple bruise outlining the side of his chin wasn't very flattering either.

"Ryan, come out already!" Seth reminded him again impatiently from behind the door.

"Alright!" Ryan barked as he opened the door and stepped out into the pool house, but as he noticed the hurt expression on his foster brother's face, he quickly took it back.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean…," he paused for a moment so that he could organize his thoughts. "I shouldn't take this out on you."

"Take what out on me?" Seth asked, confused.

Ryan wanted to kick himself for saying too much.

"Nothing. I'm just not ready for the quiz today… that's all."

"Um… okay, but I don't get it. It's just a quiz. Do you think my parents are really going to care if you get one bad grade?"

Ryan bit his bottom lip and looked down at the floor, wrapping his arms around his trunk.

He didn't know how to respond to Seth's question so instead of answering, he opted to grab his backpack and followed him out the door, on his way to unlock his bike as the other boy picked up his skate board.

"Hey, Seth…," Ryan called out—realizing that he didn't feel well enough to bike to school. The curly-haired boy turned around to face him.

"Do you think that maybe…," Ryan cut himself off while Seth waited for him to finish his statement.

_Do you think that maybe Kirsten could give me a ride to school?_

That's really what he wanted to ask, but he wasn't ready to explain himself, and he didn't want Seth or the Cohens to grow suspicious so he decided it wouldn't be a good idea to ask.

"Never mind," he said. "But if it's okay… I just want to walk today. I know I'm going to be late, but I need some time to think."

"Um… okay…," Seth responded, rolling his eyes slightly as he sensed that Ryan was hiding something from him. "If this is how you're going to be, then fine. All you ever do is think or _brood _I should say_…_ I'm guessing we won't be playing Battlescar Gallactica later either," he said agitated, taking off to school on his skate board.

"Seth, wait…," Ryan called out after him, but Seth was already too far away to hear him so just like that, Ryan glumly began his slow, painful walk to school.

He was late, he didn't feel well, he'd missed the meeting with Coach Nielson, and Seth was mad at him.

It was going to be a harder day than he thought.

* * *

**A/N 2: So a lot of things will be happening in upcoming chapters of this story. Yes, Sandy will go to this game of Ryan's (aw, how touching right? Should have happened on the show, JOSH! :D) And also, within the next few chapters, you will find out what happens to Luke (in terms of his suspension and his alcohol problem) as well as finding out what is medically wrong with Ryan.**

**Thanks for reading, and if you get the chance, please review because it helps me improve the story and my writing if I have feedback from you guys! Thanks again! :D **

**TBC.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, not even the adorable Ryan Atwood/Ben McKenzie. The OC universe and all of its characters were created by Josh Schwartz and owned by him as well. Don't sue me Josh! I mean it! No copyright infringement intended!

**A/N:** Guys, I am SO SORRY that I took so long to update! This chapter has been written for a while, but life got in the way. It is the summer time now, so I will try to update quicker from now on! I hope you guys stick with this story despite how slowly I've been updating it. I promise it will be worth the wait if you stick with me! I have an intricate plot planned out for the remaining ten or so chapters and it will get quite intense and many relationships will be developed (Ryan/Luke, Ryan/Sandy, Ryan/Seth, Ryan/Kirsten, Sandy/Kirsten, and Ryan/Seth/Summer/Anna).

This chapter introduces the following characters: Kirsten, Caleb, Anna, Summer, Dr. Kim, Meredith Ward, Dr. Canales.

Every scene in this chapter is important for later character development, even if it seems like fluff at times. The second half of this chapter (the Ryan & Luke part) becomes EXTRA intense and is BASED ON A TRUE STORY (something that happened between me and a close friend) so please keep that in mind. I hope you will not be mad at Luke after this chapter or if you are, please consider the fact that he is an overwhelmed teenager. We all make mistakes, but what happens in this chapter with Luke is essential to his development later on in the story and what Ryan does for him in this chapter is essential to the building complexity regarding their friendship. When Ryan's severe illness becomes revealed, I will expound upon these things more and you'll understand better what I am talking about in later chapters.

Sorry that was so long winded and thanks so much for sticking with me and for all the amazing reviews!

Lastly, but certainly not least, thanks so much to my beta! You've been amazing so far!

Now on with the story!

**~*~*~*~CHAPTER THREE~*~*~*~**

Kirsten Cohen was washing the dishes. She had been reading over floor plans for most of the morning and had missed breakfast with the family. As she reached her hand out to turn off the tap, she felt someone affectionately kiss her on the neck.

"Hey, you," She said seductively, turning around and pulling her husband to her for a light kiss on the lips. "I thought you had already left for work. You said you had an early morning meeting."

"I did, but after it I realized I forgot something at the house and had to come back," Sandy said mischievously as he continued to caress her slender body lovingly.

She looked at him curiously and he smiled boyishly at her.

"Actually," He said nuzzling her neck and kissing her softly. "It was just an excuse to see my beautiful, classy, charming, magnificent wife," he added, punctuating each superlative with a kiss.

"Good answer," She smiled at him, pulling him in closer.

Just then, her cell phone began to ring. For a few moments she hesitated before finally pulling away from him and reaching for her phone to see who was calling.

"Aren't you going to take that?" He asked, confused.

"It's my dad."

"Oh, that rich, heartless bastard? No wonder you haven't picked up the phone yet," Sandy playfully mocked her father.

Kirsten glared at her husband causing him to throw up his hands in mock indignation.

"What, honey? You know it's true! Despite all that, he's still my favorite father- in-law."

"He's your only father-in-law," Kirsten responded, clearly irritated by his continued digs at her father.

"And thank God. As much as I love to hate the man, I don't think the world could handle another Caleb Nichol."

Ignoring Sandy's remark about her dad, Kirsten changed the subject.

"Have the boys left for school already?" She asked, walking back over to the sink to place the remaining dirty bowls and silverware from breakfast in the dishwasher. "I haven't seen them all morning."

"I'm pretty sure they left, honey. It's already…," Sandy paused to read the time on his Breitling watch. "It's already ten 'til eight. If they haven't left, I'd imagine they're both running very late, and I know Ryan had a meeting with his coach before school."

"He did? What about? Is it about the fight at practice yesterday?"

She had been worried that Ryan would get into trouble at school ever since he'd come to live with them.

"I'm not sure what the meeting is about, but I'd imagine it's about the game Saturday. You know, Ryan is going to be the starting striker in the county championship. I'm really proud of that kid," Sandy answered.

"Oh," She exhaled softly, relieved that Ryan had continued his streak of good behavior at Harbor since the incident at practice several months before where he had been suspended for two games. "That will be good for him," she added with a reserved smile.

Sandy noticed the skepticism in her voice and sighed. This was not the first time she had let her fear of Ryan getting into trouble slip in front of him.

"It'll be great for him! I promised him I'd be at the game. I think we should all go together as a family to support him."

"That sounds like a good idea. I've been so wrapped up in the new development project that I haven't even found the time to talk to Seth lately."

Sandy looked at his wife dubiously. In his mind, the purpose of them all going together was to show Ryan how much they wanted him to feel like part of the family.

Finally, noticing her husband's confused expression, she added, "I'm sure Ryan will appreciate the support."

Almost on cue, her cell phone began to ring again, but this time she knew she couldn't ignore it much longer.

She kissed her husband one last time before grabbing her things and leaving for work as he did the same.

* * *

By the time Kirsten reached the Range Rover her cell rang for the third time that morning.

"Hi, Dad," She finally answered unenthusiastically, unlocking the door of the vehicle and setting her briefcase on the passenger seat.

"Kiki," he responded. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm on my way to the office right now. I got tied up with things at the house, but I've already taken a look at the new architectural designs and made an appointment to meet with the contractors next week if that's what you are concerned about," She tried to appease her father as she started up the ignition and began pulling out of the driveway on her way to work.

"Actually, I'm not calling about that. There is an important business meeting on Saturday with the CEO of Richard H. Dodd & Associates."

"They finally agreed to meet with us? They have some of the nicest residential designs I've seen."

"Yes, and I expect you to be there."

"Saturday? Couldn't they have picked another day? I already made plans. You know I hate to work on Saturdays."

"Nonsense. You thrive off of your work. You're a workaholic just like your mother was."

Kirsten sighed. She couldn't argue that one.

"What time is the meeting?" She asked, hoping perhaps it wouldn't conflict with her schedule.

"It's at two. Then we are all going out to dinner afterward. What is it you made plans to do on Saturday that is so important anyway? Cardio bar with those women from the Yacht Club again?"

"Actually, Dad… Ryan has an important soccer game on Saturday, and it starts at two."

"Who?"

"Ryan."

"Oh, you mean the delinquent? I thought I told you it's dangerous to let a criminal get so close to the family. I still can't forgive that self-righteous, overzealous husband of yours for taking him in. He's leeching off of our money—my money… and now he's eating up your valuable time… time that you could be spending with my grandson. Don't you see what is happening, Kiki? That boy is finding a way to manipulate his way into all of our lives."

"_That boy_ has a name, and he's not a bad kid. He's living in our home now, and it was just as much my decision to let him stay as it was Sandy's. Seth adores Ryan, and I already told Sandy I would go with him to the game."

"This is completely unacceptable," Caleb replied, but Kirsten zoned out from the conversation as she noticed a lethargic, dark blond figure walking on the sidewalk ahead.

"Dad, let me call you back," She said, hanging up her cell phone and pulling over as she turned on the emergency signal.

She stepped out of the Rover and locked its doors, hurrying to catch up with the sluggish boy in front of her. The closer she got to him, the more worried she became as she noticed his seemingly labored breathing.

"Ryan?" She called out, but got no response.

"Ryan?" She tried again, this time a little bit louder. Finally catching up to him, she tapped on his left shoulder, startling him.

He flinched at the physical contact, and his whole body tensed until finally, the trance that had been absorbing his mood was broken, and he realized who was calling his name.

Wide-eyed, he clumsily dropped the notebook he had been carrying and stared at his foster mother in utter confusion.

"Kirsten?" He asked softly, unable to hide his surprise.

"Ryan, why aren't you in school?"

"I'm sorry…I…," He said quickly, stepping away from her and inhaling sharply. Much to his dismay, he was unable to control his worsening coughing as he struggled to catch his breath.

"_Shit,"_ he thought silently as he met her serious gaze.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to explain himself to her.

"I wasn't… I mean… I'm not ditching school or anything. I didn't mean to be late," he answered, suddenly losing his nerve and breaking eye contact with her, but before he could say anything else, she interrupted him.

"Are you feeling okay, Ryan?" She asked, softening her tone as she examined his worn out appearance. Guilt flooded her eyes as she realized this was the first conversation she had had with the blue-eyed teenager in almost twenty-four hours.

He didn't respond to her question; instead, his shoulders slumped as he continued staring down at his boot-covered feet.

Dark circles outlined his puffy, slightly watery eyes, and his hair appeared a bit greasy and unkempt—strands of his shaggy bangs cowlicked in varying directions. It was much different than the clean and neatly styled tufts she was used to seeing on him.

Even more, the bruise on his chin that Sandy had warned her about had now taken on a dark purple and grayish hue. His cough didn't go unnoticed by her either. To put it mildly, he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Fighting off the urge to feel his forehead in public for a temperature, she settled on prying for more information.

"Why are you walking? You usually take your bike."

He merely shrugged his shoulders, throwing her a quick glance and chewing on his bottom lip. Momentarily, he got the courage to answer.

"Wasn't feeling too well I guess," he said in a quiet, hoarse voice, upset that he felt bad enough to admit that to her.

"So you decided to walk instead?" She sighed—annoyed that he hadn't come to her. "Ryan, does that make any sense to you? If you aren't feeling well, you need to tell me or Sandy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kirsten," he answered timidly.

"So why didn't you?"

"You seemed busy. I didn't want to bother you."

His thoughtful answer only served in adding to the overwhelming amount of guilt she was feeling.

"Get in the Rover, Ryan. Now," She ordered sternly. "I'm giving you a ride to school, and I expect you to see the nurse as soon as you get there," She said, unlocking the doors to the black vehicle.

As she walked briskly to the driver's side, Ryan obediently followed, lagging behind her and gingerly opening the door to the passenger side. He hesitated as he saw her brief case lying in the passenger seat, unsure of whether or not she wanted him to move it himself.

"Oh, don't worry about the brief case. You can just set it on the floor," She assured him, noticing his discomfort. He did so and climbed into the seat, shutting the door.

She hadn't meant to come across harshly, and it hurt her to see how uneasy Ryan still seemed to be around her, especially knowing that she hadn't made much of an effort to make him feel like part of the family over the past few months. She cared about him, but she didn't know how to approach him or how to talk to him, and she had no idea why, which further added to her frustration.

If anything, she was disappointed in herself. She had been so wrapped up in her job the past few weeks that she hadn't paid much attention to either of the boys, not even Seth, which intensified her guilt even more.

Had Ryan been feeling this ill for a while now? Would he have even told them if he had?

She knew he had sinusitis the previous week and that a mild, recurring cough had persisted since he first began living with them, but the doctors told them it was allergies, and she hadn't ever noticed him appearing as physically worn down as he did today in the entirety of the six months they had been his legal guardians. Concerned, she made a mental note to talk to Sandy about setting up another appointment for Ryan with Dr. Canales.

Ryan remained silent for the duration of the ride to Harbor, and when she pulled into the front parking lot of the school, she glanced at him and noticed he had pulled a few note cards out of his backpack that he seemed to be studying intently. It amazed her how hard he tried in school. Seth didn't spend half the time that Ryan did on studies or homework.

"We're here, Ryan," She said, interrupting his train of thought, which had been completely focused on whatever he was studying in chemistry.

He turned his head in her direction, giving her his characteristic, bashful smile.

"Thanks, Kirsten," He said, putting away his note cards and unfastening his seat belt.

"Oh, you're welcome. Have a good day at school today, and don't forget to see the nurse first thing. This way, they can excuse your tardiness as well."

He nodded at her appreciatively and then climbed out of the Range Rover on his way to school.

* * *

After visiting the nurse's office, Ryan was released with a note for his first period teacher to excuse his absence. Furthermore, the nurse had assured him that Coach Nielson would be informed of his health status.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed a little knowing that he wouldn't be in any trouble for missing the early morning meeting.

However, other than that, the nurse hadn't told him anything he didn't already know, which confused him. If it was just allergies, why did Kirsten and Sandy keep insisting he see a doctor? Surely they had better things to worry about than his petty health issues.

After all, despite the persistent cough and shortness of breath, the nurse had told him his temperature was normal, and she gave him the go ahead to attend all of his classes and go to soccer practice as long as he was feeling up to it.

As he continued his walk to Pre-Calculus, he decided there was no point in even showing up considering there were fewer than ten minutes left of the class. Besides, he wasn't too fond of Mr. Schmidt and didn't mind a day without his boring lectures. Seth had been right all along. The man talked with his eyes closed and belittled his students when they couldn't understand a concept.

When Ryan finally reached his locker to grab his Western civilization book in preparation for second period, he saw Luke and his mother in the hallway.

"How's it going, Chino?" Luke asked casually, approaching his friend.

"Hey, man," Ryan greeted him, ignoring his question as the two friends bumped fists. "Hi, Mrs. Ward," he added politely, meeting her gaze and smiling softly.

"It's good to see you, Ryan. Thank you for helping Luke last night," She replied.

"It's no problem," he responded, shrugging his shoulders a little bit and quirking the left side of his mouth upwards shyly before gaining a more serious expression and turning to face Luke. "You okay?" He asked his friend.

"Yeah, you know… better anyway. You and my mom helped a lot. I guess I'll really know how I'm doing after this meeting with Dr. Kim."

Ryan eyed him sympathetically, and the three of them remained in awkward silence until Luke finally spoke up again.

"Dude, you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"So I've heard," Ryan replied, slightly annoyed that everyone kept reminding him.

"You feel okay? I mean… that cough last night sounded pretty brutal."

"Yeah, everything's cool. Hey, look… I better get to class, but good luck."

"Thanks again for everything, Ryan," Meredith Ward reiterated her gratitude and Ryan nodded thoughtfully in response.

"Alright, Chino… take it easy, guy," Luke said, bumping fists with Ryan one more time before the other boy began the short walk to his second period class.

Shortly after, Dr. Kim arrived. The closer they got to the wooden doors of Dr. Kim's office, the more Luke's stomach churned with anxiety.

This was it.

Would he get to play in any of the remaining soccer games this season?

* * *

"Mr. Ward," Dr. Kim greeted him coldly as he entered her office before turning her gaze to meet his mother's. "Meredith," she acknowledged.

"Dr. Kim, I am terribly sorry about Luke's actions. It won't happen again."

"This is not the first time your son has been in trouble for fighting, and it's not me you should be apologizing to," Dr. Kim responded seriously. "Have a seat please."

Luke and his mother sat down across from Dr. Kim's desk as she pulled out Luke's file and began skimming it over and making notes.

Nervous, Luke swallowed thickly and began tapping his right sneaker quietly against the shiny, wooden floor. If the grave expression on Dr. Kim's face carried any weight in her decision, this meeting certainly would not turn out in his favor. Already feeling defeated, he slumped back in his chair and waited for his principal to speak. Instead, his mom was the next one to break the silence.

"What is it?" She asked hastily, anxious for her son.

"The disciplinary committee has made their decision…," The principal answered sternly. She then paused, pressing her lips together tightly.

"And?" Meredith asked discreetly. Even she was afraid of rubbing the strict, Asian woman sitting across from her the wrong way.

"Luke is suspended for the remainder of the school year."

Meredith gasped as the news began to sink in and continued pleading with Dr. Kim to change her mind. However, Luke didn't say a word as his focus shifted to his own bewildered thoughts.

In that moment, nothing seemed real to him anymore. He couldn't decipher up from down or even left from right. He knew his mom was going to be pissed when he got home, and deep down he did feel bad for worsening her situation, but that was the furthest thing from his mind.

He hadn't expected to be suspended for the rest of his junior year, but he couldn't bring himself to care. For the first time in his life, he felt completely empty and it scared him.

He knew it wasn't the suspension that triggered the numbness. It was rooted far deeper than that. Truthfully, the suspension didn't bother him at all. It was an escape from all the jackass kids that had made his life miserable the past few months—the same kids that he wanted to punch in the face.

Still, he knew he was depressed. His life had gotten way out of hand and he didn't know what to do about it. He was no longer in control.

Had he ever been?

A hysterical plea by his mother interrupted the perplexed thoughts running through his mind that were robbing him of his sanity.

"Dr. Kim, there has to be some mistake… please fix this! That's three months!" She cried.

"I shouldn't have to remind you what a serious offense it is for a student to assault another student," The principal explained matter-of-factly.

"But Dr. Kim, please! You have to listen to me! My son didn't assault Evan!"

"Did he not punch him over and over again until he passed out? Is Evan not in the hospital still because of your son?"

"Yes, but… he was provoked and Evan shoved him first! I agree with you that my son should be punished, but to say that he assaulted Evan just doesn't seem right!" she asserted.

"That's not what Evan is saying. Evan said that Luke attacked him in the locker room and several other students who were in the locker room when it happened confirmed that had Ryan not pulled Luke off, Evan may have been even more seriously injured than he already is."

"My son is not violent! He's just going through hard times with our family right now! I'm begging you… is there anything you can do to lighten the punishment?"

"Not violent? This is the second time I'm reminding you today that this is not the first time Luke has been suspended this year for fighting. I'm not even counting the model home incident where a fire was started. It's no secret that he has a history of bullying as well."

"His future can't be ruined because of this! He—I can't handle that right now! It's too much!"

"Luke should have thought of the consequences before taking his first swing at Evan," Dr. Kim maintained, but upon observing the look of desperation in Meredith's eyes, she softened her tone and sighed. "I'm afraid there is nothing more I can do."

Turning her head to face Luke, she added firmly, "I suggest you clean out your locker today—both your school locker and your gym locker. I'll inform all of your teachers of your suspension. Coach Nielson already knows. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Luke shook his head defiantly.

"Fuck you," he replied coolly, even surprising himself but unable to snap out of the pugnacious mood that was now replacing the numbness.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Kim asked, clearly astonished by his suddenly crude and disrespectful behavior.

"Luke, don't!" Meredith yelled, tears still descending from her tired eyes.

"I said fuck you and fuck Harbor! I don't give a fuck anymore, okay? I've already lost everything anyway… good riddance!" He blurted out before forcing himself up from the chair he had been seated in and heading for the door.

"You're not going anywhere! Get over here and sit down!" Meredith commanded harshly.

"Make me!" He shouted back.

"If you walk out that door, you are expelled and never to set foot near this school again!" Dr. Kim yelled, unfazed by the despondent teenager's sudden temper tantrum.

"Good!" He barked, slamming the door behind him and leaving his distraught mother on the verge of a breakdown.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the end of Western civilization. Gingerly placing his well organized notes and textbook in his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder, Ryan took a deep breath in an effort to relax himself.

Although he wasn't particularly hungry, he was relieved that it was finally time for lunch. The 'fight' he had with Seth earlier in the morning had been bothering him all day and he was looking forward to seeing his foster brother at lunch with the hope that he'd get a chance to apologize to him. One thing he knew was that he couldn't take Seth being mad at him, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between them. After all, if Seth hadn't tried so hard to convince Kirsten to let him stay in the pool house, Ryan feared he would still be living on the streets.

When he reached the school cafeteria, his reverie was interrupted by the heavy smell of greasy fries, pizza, corn dogs, and other similar foods that nearly caused his stomach to revolt. He knew there would be no way he could handle eating anything heavy, so he grabbed an apple and a bottle of water from the lunch line and began his walk to the courtyard to look for Seth.

As he made his way outside, he took a second to breathe in some of the fresh, spring air. His euphoria quickly ended, however, as the painful cough returned, forcing him to sit down against the brick wall of one of the school's many finely constructed buildings.

Anna Stern spotted him as he struggled for air—the petite blond unable to hide the concern radiating from her magnificently shaped, piercing brown eyes.

"Ryan?" She called out, walking towards him. "Are you okay?"

"Hey," He managed to get out in between coughs. "Yeah, fine."

Sensing that he wasn't in the mood to talk about his health, she buried her curiosity and changed the subject.

"Come on, tough guy. Let me help you up," She offered, holding out her hand for him to take.

"Are you on your way to have lunch with Seth?"

"Yeah," He replied, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness building in his chest.

"Do you mind if I sit with you guys? I was at the comic book store yesterday and picked up the new Legion. I thought Seth might want to take a look at it."

"If he doesn't already have it," Ryan smirked. "Sure, it's no problem. You can sit with us."

She smiled at him gratefully, and he returned the expression—a coy grin planted on his boyish face.

As the two of them walked to the courtyard, they ran into Summer Roberts who was sporting a bright pink, tight fitted blouse over a short, white jean skirt that showed off her curvy figure.

"Hi, Blanche," Anna used her affectionate nickname from the Golden Girls to greet her friend.

"Hey, Rose," the brunette replied before noticing the attractive, but exhausted teenager walking beside her.

"Hey, Atwood," She greeted him. "Nice bruise, and when's the last time you slept? You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks, Summer," He replied, smiling at her cheekily. "From you, that's a compliment."

"Hey, have you guys seen Cohen?" Summer asked, a glimmer of excitement illuminating her remarkable, coffee brown eyes at the mention of his name.

Ryan noticed a tinge of jealousy flicker across Anna's face.

"We were actually on our way to meet him for lunch," Anna answered.

"Oh," Summer said. "Can I come with you guys? Mrs. Applebalm had a 'family emergency' half way through English and totally let us out early, but now I have a whole period to kill!"

"Yeah, it's cool," Ryan answered.

He couldn't yet place what it was, but there was something about the energetic brunette that drew him to her. Normally he wasn't attracted to girls with personalities like hers, but there was something about her that he found enigmatic. Maybe it was because over the years he felt he had become pretty good at reading people, and every time he looked into her eyes, he saw a girl who was simultaneously strong and vulnerable—one who hid her true personality under the shell of her characteristically shallow one, perhaps as a mechanism for protecting herself from being hurt.

None of that mattered though because she was off limits. There was no way he could ever develop feelings for the girl his foster brother had been crushing on since the years he first began playing magic the gathering.

Brushing off his attraction, he continued walking with his two female companions as they chatted about their biology assignment. He enjoyed their company, but he knew he had to find some time with Seth alone so that he could apologize.

The three of them finally spotted Seth sitting in his predictable spot alone in the courtyard, demolishing a tuna melt and reading one of his favorite X-Men comics.

* * *

Summer and Anna sat across from Seth while Ryan took a seat next to him, greeting him with a head nod.

Still upset about what happened that morning, Seth ignored Ryan, instead smiling and waving at the pretty brunette sitting directly in front of him.

"Hey, Summer," the curly haired boy blushed.

"Hi, Cohen," Summer replied, sweetly enough to make it obvious that she liked him but also caustically enough to make it clear that she was playing hard to get.

Now turning his attention to the witty girl with short blond hair sitting next to her, he asked, "So Anna, are you up for a little bit of Jenga after school?"

"Jenga? Ew! What are you eight, Cohen?" Summer interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Summer. Was I talking to you?" Seth reacted curtly, turning his attention back to Anna while Summer rolled her eyes, pretending not to care about his presence.

"It's Tuesday, Seth," Anna chuckled. "We have a lit mag meeting after school and I don't want to miss it. Today we are discussing the article in the American Register on the horrors of West Indian slavery."

"That sounds awesome!" Summer exclaimed. "With Coop in San Diego for therapy, I have absolutely nothing to do after school anymore. I mean… I could go to South Coast Plaza, but if I have to spend another afternoon shopping alone, I think I'm going to go totally insane. Is it too late to join the lit mag club this year?" She asked, smiling genuinely at her friend.

"Well this year is too late, but I was voted in as president for next year and I can sign you up," replied the spunky blond. "I think it would be fun to have you on the team!"

Seth laughed, "Are you both serious? I mean, no offense, Summer, but… I can't really picture you being into any magazines that don't revolve around fashion and celebrity gossip."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Cohen? I happen to read literary magazines to the evil step monster all the time!" She countered.

"I believe it," Ryan quietly stated, giving Summer a small half grin. He wanted her to know that he was on her side.

"Me too," Anna replied.

"Awww, you guys are sooo sweet!" She exclaimed, glancing at both Ryan and Anna before turning to Seth and adding, "Take that, Cohen!"

"Whatever," Seth said.

Obviously irritated, it was his turn to roll his eyes at Summer as he changed the subject.

"So, Anna… I can't believe tomorrow is already Wednesday…," He said, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth.

"Yeah," She said, taking a bite out of her cheese pizza. "That also means graphic novels come out tomorrow, which reminds me, I finally finished reading the new Legion, and I wanted to know if you'd read it already…"

Ryan was now fighting back fatigue. His attention slowly diverted away from their conversation, and he closed his eyes, placing his head on the table and not even bothering to eat his apple.

Seth had been trying to ignore him, but his annoyance was quickly replaced with worry as he noticed how uncomfortable and exhausted his foster brother looked.

"Ryan, buddy… come on… I know lit mag and graphic novels aren't your thing… well words in general actually, but we can't possibly be boring you that much…"

Looking up, Ryan smiled at him tiredly, relieved that at least he was talking to him now.

"I'm just tired, Seth," he responded.

"Aren't you going to eat something though?" The other boy inquired.

"Not hungry," Ryan shrugged. "But hey… um, can I talk to you for a minute?" He finally asked, trying to tell Seth with his eyes that he'd prefer to go somewhere private.

Getting the hint, Seth stood up and pushed his chair in, observing the two girls sitting across from him who were now engaged in a conversation about the latest Golden Girls marathon.

"Ryan and I are going to go get some dessert. We'll be right back," he informed them, and with that the two boys took off.

* * *

"So, um… I'm sorry… about earlier," Ryan finally apologized as they reached a spot where nobody would hear them.

He held eye contact with Seth who was touched by the sincerity emanating from his expressive eyes, which had turned a darker shade of blue.

Seth knew that technically Ryan hadn't done anything wrong earlier. It was now obvious to him that his foster brother wasn't feeling well, and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for taking things personally and even getting mad at him in the first place.

"I'm sorry too," Seth replied, for once not having a witty one liner to respond with.

"You still up for Battlestar Gallactica later?" Ryan offered.

Grinning emphatically Seth answered, "Ryan, when am I not in the mood for Battlestar Gallactica? And hey, while we're on this streak of higher level Seth-Ryan awesomeness, want to join me in Magic the Gathering later too? And how about a marathon of my favorite anime show and then we can listen to Deathcab for Cutie's new album and…"

Ryan shot him one of his characteristic glares, shutting him up for a second.

"Right. Got it. Just Battlestar Gallactica," the neurotic teenager said, grabbing a greedy portion of cheese cake from the dessert line in the cafeteria.

Ryan smirked impishly at Seth's response and as the two friends locked gazes, he finally allowed himself to relax knowing that things between him and his foster brother were okay—at least for now.

* * *

The rest of the school day passed by slowly for Ryan, but he was relieved when it was finally over.

He was disappointed about the outcome of his chemistry quiz, but he'd worry about that later. After all, at least he hadn't failed. As Sandy would say, it could have been worse, and as long as he could pull his chemistry grade up before midterm reports were released, the Cohens wouldn't even know he got a 70.

For now, he just needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Coach Nielson had rescheduled a meeting with him, and he had to find away to stay awake before soccer practice.

* * *

"Hey, Coach Nielson," Ryan said timidly as he stepped into his coach's office. "Sorry I missed the meeting this morning," he added ruefully.

Unsure of where to sit, he remained standing—positioning himself awkwardly in front of his coach's trophy decorated desk while shifting his weight from side to side and fidgeting with his hands nervously.

Perceiving the edgy teenager's discomfort, Coach Nielson reassured him, "You're not in any kind of trouble, Ryan. Have a seat anywhere you want."

Keeping eye contact with his coach, Ryan respectfully did as he was told.

"Evan will be out of the hospital tomorrow," Coach Nielson began.

"How is he?" Ryan asked, genuine concern etched in his eyes.

Coach Nielson couldn't help but smile at the young man sitting in front of him. It was Ryan's caring attitude—even towards kids who didn't necessarily deserve it-that made him so fond of him. He had never coached anyone quite like him, and he applauded his resilience on the field as well as his team-oriented attitude and concern for others. When he had first met Ryan, he hadn't expected him to excel so much, but he was happy that he had been wrong about him.

"He's going to be alright. He's pretty banged up right now, but he's going to be alright. I want to thank you for getting Luke off of him before things got more out of control."

"I'm glad he's okay," Ryan answered.

"Well the reason I brought you in here today is to discuss your new role on the team," He began.

Now sitting on the edge of his seat, Ryan waited eagerly for him to continue.

"With Evan in the hospital and Luke suspended, it would be overwhelming for Dean to be the only captain. Too much has happened...," he trailed off—his eyes focusing on Ryan's.

As his words registered with Ryan, the shy boy respectfully nodded in understanding.

"You want me to be co-captain...," Ryan said.

"Not only that... I want you to play striker for the rest of the season."

"But... what if it doesn't work? I mean... I'm only a sophomore."

"Ryan," Coach Nielson said earnestly, hoping his hardest working player understood how sincere he was in what he was about to say. "You've proven yourself a good leader this year, and I trust you and Dean will be a great one-two punch. Dean is a senior so I'm not worried about you being such a young co-captain. He'll help you out when you need it, but I believe you'll do an excellent job."

Ryan couldn't hide his surprise, but he also had difficulty comprehending why Coach Nielson was giving him this responsibility. After all, Harbor had a winning record with Luke and Dean as co-captains.

"What about Luke?" He asked.

"He's not returning for the rest of the season."

_Or any season. _

Ryan's heart sank at the news. He knew this would be a big blow to Luke. His friend had looked forward to getting back on the soccer field.

"Okay," Ryan said, looking down at his feet. "I'll do the best I can."

_It's the least I can do to help the team like Luke would,_he thought.

Since the moment Ryan stepped into his office, Coach Nielson had noticed the incessant cough that was making the teenager's voice huskier than usual. Worried, he felt the need to keep a close eye on his new captain's health.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, changing the subject. "Mrs. Jennings from the nurses' office told me you are sick."

"I… it's not that bad. I can play Saturday," Ryan assured him.

"You don't look so good. I saw you wheezing in practice yesterday. Take the rest of the week off and recover. I need you fresh for Saturday's game."

"You sure?" Ryan asked incredulously. He wasn't expecting a break from practice this week.

"I need you at 100% when we play Sage Hill. This year they're the team to beat."

Smiling gratefully, Ryan said, "Thanks, coach."

He was more exhausted than he would ever let on, but even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone else, he knew he needed the rest.

"Get to the school early on Saturday. We leave at noon so 11:30 is fine. We need to go over plays."

"Okay, Coach," Ryan answered attentively.

"Now get out of here," Coach Nielson joked, earning him a small half smile.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Luke and Meredith finally arrived back at the house. They were both clearly frustrated and emotional, which only served in worsening the verbal quarrel that had started in the hallway at Harbor after the tumultuous meeting with Dr. Kim.

"What has gotten into you? I know it's hard for us right now, but your behavior is completely unacceptable!" Meredith Ward shouted at her son.

Luke wasn't sure how to answer his mom. In fact, he wasn't sure about anything anymore so he said nothing. Instead, he reached for a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator, brushing his mother off.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Meredith commanded.

"Fine… what is it?" The unruly teenager now turned around, finally meeting his mother's gaze.

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

Luke merely shrugged his shoulders and kept sipping on his Coke.

"Answer me! What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong as a parent? I've tried so hard to be a good mom for you and this is how you repay me after everything that's happened with your father?"

"Nothing! You didn't do anything wrong, Mom! Shit… it's me, okay?"

"Don't use that language around me! And no, it's not okay! You just got yourself expelled from school! You knew I was struggling and under a lot of stress and you still couldn't control yourself… not even for me! I can't handle you right now! If this is how you're going to behave… I just can't deal with you, Luke! I called your uncle, Louis. You're going to live with him for a while. Go pack your things. I want you out of here tonight."

"What? How could you, Mom? I thought you were on my side! You're kicking me out of the fucking house?"

"What did I say about the language?"

"Fuck the language! I can't believe it! You're kicking me out of the fucking house!"

"It's not permanent, honey," She said, now lowering her tone. "It's just until… until I can straighten my own life out. I'm sorry, Luke. I just can't handle this right now," she added, and as she spoke, her anger quickly dissipated as an overwhelming sadness took its place and she began to sob.

* * *

Exhausted from the monotony of reading design after design for one of the town's upcoming housing development projects, Kirsten was about to take a break and call her dad when she heard a familiar tune from Solomon Burke resonating from the car pulling into the driveway. Sandy was home, and she was eager to see him. It was rare that both of them were home early and she hoped they'd get a chance to make up for lost time before dinner. Stopping what she was doing, she walked to the front door to greet her husband.

"You're home early," Kirsten said, smiling brightly as he entered the house.

"Well, Rachel and I finally managed to wrap things up at the office at a decent hour," Sandy responded, leaning into her gently and kissing her forehead.

"And?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"And… I couldn't go another minute being away from my gorgeous wife."

"That's good to know," She chuckled, holding him closer to her.

"Is Seth home yet? I need to talk to him about something," Sandy asked, pulling away slowly from their loving embrace.

"No, but Ryan is. He's in the pool house," she replied.

"He is? I thought he was at soccer practice."

"Maybe it ended early today. He was there when I got here half an hour ago."

"I'm going to go check on him," Sandy announced, walking in the direction of the pool house with Kirsten following a pace behind him. She sighed quietly to herself, hoping she and Sandy would still get the alone time she'd been desiring.

"Ryan?" Sandy called out, knocking on the pool house door. When he heard no response, he opened it and stepped in, finding the blinds completely shut and a sleeping Ryan lying on the large bed, tangled in a couple of thick, blue blankets.

It was only five o'clock in the afternoon.

"Should we wake him up?" Kirsten asked.

"No. Let him sleep. He was up late last night studying. If he's still not up by dinner, I'll wake him."

* * *

Luke was depressed and not in his right state of mind—too pissed off at everything and everyone, especially himself, to think rationally.

He tried to feel something—any kind of emotion, but he couldn't.

He didn't feel anger or pain or hate or even sadness. Instead, he just felt nothing.

He felt like a fucking failure.

A loser.

Was his life even that bad? He didn't even know anymore.

He was no longer thinking… just reacting. He was going on pure impulses now.

Reflecting on the way his life had been less than a year before had only made him feel worse about himself.

Maybe he deserved everything that was happening. After all, he used to be a huge asshole—probably even a worse one than Evan.

He had bullied kids and pissed in their shoes, lambasting gays and even stereotyping others into that category without knowing anything about them just because it gave him a sense of importance. It had made him feel like a tough guy.

Like he mattered.

Now here he was confused about his own fucking sexuality after finding out a secret his father had kept from him and his mother during the duration of their marriage.

Luke wasn't gay. That much he knew.

But then why had he carried such intense animosity against homosexuals for all those years?

Had his bullying complex just been a defense mechanism to suppress his own insecurities?

Had he been afraid to face what fate had known about him all along?

The very thought of it sent several chills down his spine, leaving him nauseous.

He had gone from being the popular jock at school with all the girls, a bright future, and a loving family to realizing that his former life was based upon a lie. He felt like nothing more than a shell of his former self.

In his mind, he was a loser with no friends, a broken family, and a precarious future, but he just didn't give a fuck anymore.

He was lonely, conflicted, and confused—more depressed than he'd ever been.

The bitter resentment he had felt for his father was slowly fading and strong feelings of guilt and inadequacy were replacing it.

If he was being completely honest with himself, though, his insecurities had been there all along. They were just more noticeable now that his once tightly wound life had slowly unwoven itself into a calamitous disarray of delusive memories and complicated problems—some of which were self-created.

In short, he was vulnerable—a volatile teenager too wrapped up in self-pity to think clearly or even remember the profound words Ryan had told him the night before.

He was living on the edge, like a caged animal ready to lose it at any moment.

He hated himself. He hated who he'd become and he hated his situation, but he didn't know how to get his former life back.

In his mind, he'd lost something irreplaceable, and nobody could make him feel like himself again.

Nobody could make him feel happiness again.

Lost in his thoughts, he somberly walked over to the small bar in the basement where his mom kept an assortment of alcohol to be used for parties.

He needed an outlet, and he knew that alcohol was definitely a way for him to get the escape he was looking for. After all, it had been his escape for the past few months.

Normally, he was a beer guy, but today he wanted something stronger. He needed something that would completely take the edge off of things.

He searched the cabinet, carefully selecting his drink of choice.

Red wine was an old man's drink and definitely not strong enough, and gin was too dry.

Vodka was closer to what he was looking for but still not concentrated enough, and whiskey? He hated the taste.

Patron SIlver? Still not strong enough.

Finally, he saw the golden colored liquid he was looking for sitting there in a one liter bottle in front of him—tempting him.

That was it.

Bacardi 151.

75.5 percent alcohol/151 proof.

He didn't want to mix it with juice or soda. No, sir… that was for wusses.

Instead, he opted to drink it straight out of the bottle. Without a second thought, he picked up the container of hard liquor and made his way to his room to pack.

* * *

Two hours had passed since Sandy last entered the pool house and Ryan was still fast asleep. Sandy hated to disturb Ryan when he was clearly so exhausted, but dinner time was fast approaching and he wanted everyone to eat together tonight as a family.

"Ryan," He said, nudging his shoulder gently. "It's time to get up. Dinner will be here any minute."

Ryan stirred slightly, turning onto his side.

"Mmm," he groaned.

"You okay, kid? Do I need to call Dr. Canales? Kirsten told me you weren't feeling well today."

"I'm fine. Just tired," Ryan answered, yawning as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

"You don't look fine. Why weren't you at soccer practice today?"

"Coach sent me home… said he wants me well rested for the game Saturday."

"Well going to bed before dinner is certainly resting well, but are you sure something else isn't bothering you? Usually when I find you after school or practice you are studying or doing your homework— not sleeping. If something is wrong, I need to know. You saw the nurse?"

Ryan pushed himself up into a sitting position while trying to clear his throat.

"Yeah," he replied.

"And what did she say?" Sandy asked.

"Not much," Ryan shrugged. He was still feeling groggy and not completely awake, which made it more difficult to come up with adequate responses to Sandy's questions.

"Talk to me, kid. If you're not well, I have to know. What did she say?"

"Um… she said it's just allergies and that if it gets worse to see a doctor."

"Did you have a fever?" The older man asked.

"No," Ryan answered, not comfortable with where the conversation was going. "Sandy, I appreciate everything, but really I'm fine," he added, not wanting to worry the Cohens. They already had enough on their plate. Luckily for Ryan, Sandy changed the subject.

"Well we're going to have dinner in a few minutes. We ordered Thai and Japanese. We were going to ask you what you wanted, but you were sleeping so I got you chicken Pad Thai."

"Thanks, Sandy," Ryan said—the corner of his mouth moving up into an appreciative half smile. He was thrilled that Sandy remembered his favorite Thai dish. Back in Chino, Dawn had rarely remembered or even cared what kinds of foods he liked. She was too busy spending their money on drugs and booze to even be bothered by his eating habits. In fact, even when he'd gone hungry, she hadn't known or cared.

"Don't mention it," Sandy said sincerely, returning the smile and squeezing Ryan's left shoulder.

Just then, the door bell rang.

"That must be the delivery guy. If you can, please help Kirsten set the table. Seth is in the shower."

Always enthusiastic to help, Ryan washed up for dinner and headed to the kitchen to help Kirsten as Sandy headed to pay the delivery guy for their food.

* * *

While the Cohens and Ryan got ready for dinner, Luke was lying on his bed, indulging himself in Bacardi, and blasting loud music through the speakers hooked up to his Sony stereo system. He knew he was supposed to be packing his things to move into Uncle Louis's house, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he continued basking himself in self-pity.

After three swigs of the potent liquid, he was completely inebriated. Staggering out of his bed and nearly tripping over the railing, he changed the song to Papa Roach's Last Resort.

_Cut my life into pieces_

_This is my last resort_

_Suffocation_

_No breathing_

_Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding_

The anger he had been harboring for months was now returning, which excited him because it meant he wasn't completely numb after all.

He took another swallow of rum and walked clumsily across his room to where a line of soccer and water polo trophies he had won over the years lay organized on his dresser.

As he rehashed old memories of when he had won those awards, an icy ball formed at the pit of his stomach.

None of it mattered now and the awards only mocked him… reminding him of what he once had and could never get back.

In a sudden fit of rage, he knocked all of them off of the dresser while screaming to relieve some of the tension that had been building inside of him for the past few minutes.

_I never realized I was spread too thin_

'_Til it was too late_

_And I was empty within_

Realizing how relieving this action felt, he then kicked his dresser several times. Although disoriented from the alcohol, his foot still collided with the hardwood furniture enough times for everything else that was on top of it to topple over.

His foot was throbbing, but he didn't care. It was a pain that he eerily welcomed.

After all, this physical pain assured him that he wasn't completely emotionless on the inside.

_Cause I'm losing my sight_

_Losing my mind_

_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_

_Losing my sight_

_Losing my mind_

_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_

He was now punching and kicking everything in sight. Both of his hands bled furiously and he could have sworn he heard one of his bones crack, but again, he didn't care.

It was an injury to himself that he welcomed and the effects of the alcohol were keeping him from feeling the pain anyway.

Every punch and kick was an illusory relief for the emotional turmoil he was battling internally but too scared to face sober.

_I can't go on living this way_

_Can't go on_

_Living this way_

_Nothing's alright_

…_And I'm contemplating suicide_

He screamed at the top of his lungs, releasing anger and frustration that had been building within him for months like a pressure cooker without release.

Without thinking, he threw several of his precious belongings across the wall, shattering expensive electronics and gifts that at one time had meant a lot to him including his plasma screen television set, his guitar, and his personal computer.

_Nothing's alright_

_Nothing is fine_

_I'm running and I'm crying_

Panting to catch his breath, he felt a few tears escape.

After his outburst, he was emotionally exhausted. At this point, his muscles had become lethargic and he was no longer aware of his surroundings enough to form coherent thoughts.

Without second thought to what he was doing, he sat down on the carpeted floor and gulped down more rum until the bottle was almost halfway empty. Each limb became heavier and heavier until he could no longer hold his body up—welcoming the escape as everything faded into darkness.

* * *

"Seth, would you please pass me some of that green stuff?" Kirsten asked, pointing to the strong smelling garnish lying next to the salmon rolls. "I'd like to try it."

"It's called wasabi, Mom, and why is everyone eating with silverware? You're supposed to eat sushi with chopsticks… what is wrong with you people?"

"Son, just be glad your mother didn't cook for us tonight," Sandy quipped.

"You know, one of these days I'm going to buy a cook book and prove you all wrong," Kirsten shot back.

"Oh please don't, honey. God help us all!" Sandy chuckled.

"Yeah, no offense, Mom, but… now's not the time to experiment with expanding your culinary abilities. I almost needed a colonoscopy the last time you tried to make beef brisket. Just because you see it on Food Network, doesn't mean it was meant to be eaten," Seth bantered.

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad!" Kirsten defended her cooking.

"Yes, it was, honey," Sandy guffawed. "We still love you, though."

Ryan bit down on his fork, trying to hide his bemused expression.

Even after six months of living in their pool house, it was always a new and enjoyable experience for him to watch their dynamic around the dinner table. The Cohens represented what he had always wanted: a real family.

Growing up, he had never encountered a family quite like theirs.

The Diaz's had a decent life in Chino with Eva providing both Theresa and Arturo with all the necessities as well as a loving home, but the way they interacted with each other was still tainted by the lack of a strong father figure—or any father figure for that matter.

To Ryan, the Cohen family was close to perfect, special, and unique all at the same time.

They were happy and they loved each other, which is something he'd never experienced with his own parents and brother.

However, as much as it hurt to admit it, he still felt he didn't fit in with them and he wondered if he ever would. He wanted to, but part of him still felt like a burden—like a charity case—when he was around them.

He was the guest; the pool boy; the poor kid who got lucky and landed himself a nice place to stay when he really should be out on the streets. (or worse?)

He was grateful just to have a warm bed to sleep in every night, but nothing frightened him more than the prospect of him messing up and losing the second chance at life that Sandy had given him.

After all, eventually, his luck was bound to run out. It was only a matter of time before they gave up on him.

"So Ryan, how was school today?" Kirsten asked, interrupting his brood and shifting the conversation away from her cooking skills—or lack thereof.

"Good, I guess," Ryan replied stiffly, shifting the food in his plate around with his fork.

Although he wasn't nauseous, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had much of an appetite.

The phlegm that continuously lingered in his throat was ruining the taste of his food, and for weeks his stomach had been feeling full quickly, keeping him from finishing his meals. He knew he had lost a few pounds because his jeans were fitting looser around his already toned waist.

"Whoa… Earth to Ryan… but seriously dude… you keep zoning out. Are you okay? I mean… we still have several hours of Battlescar Gallactica tonight so I need Kid Chino to be fully alert," Seth babbled.

"Yeah… sorry," Ryan answered coyly.

"How'd the chemistry quiz go?" Sandy asked.

"You had a chemistry quiz today?" Kirsten inquired.

"Yeah… um," Ryan stuttered, unsure of how to answer. He was disappointed in his score, and he knew the Cohens would be even more disappointed if they knew, and he really couldn't handle Sandy being disappointed in him right now. Sandy going to his game meant everything to him, and he didn't want to lose that.

He wanted the man he looked up to to be proud of him. He knew that Sandy would be thrilled to know that Coach Nielson had made him a co-captain of the team, but Ryan couldn't even bring himself to talk about that just yet.

Just at the right time, the phone began ringing, which saved him from having to answer anymore questions… at least for now.

"I'll get it," Sandy announced. "I'm expecting a call from an old buddy of mine who used to work with me at the PD's office."

"Oh, which friend is it?" Kirsten inquired.

"Peter Howard," Sandy replied.

"Peter Howard? I haven't seen him in years!" She responded.

"Yeah, it's been a while, but it'll be great to catch up. Maybe I can convince him to move back to Newport. I miss having a friend out here," he said on his way to answer the phone.

* * *

About a minute later, Sandy returned with a grave expression on his face.

"What is it? Peter's okay, isn't he?" Kirsten asked, concerned.

"That was Meredith Ward," Sandy explained.

"Luke's mom? What does she want?" She asked, clearly puzzled.

"She wants to talk to Ryan," He answered.

Ryan's darkening blue eyes immediately widened with fear and anxiety. Hoping that nothing was wrong, he rushed over to the kitchen to take the phone from his foster father and headed for the pool house where he could get some privacy.

A couple of minutes later, he was scrambling around the room, trying to figure out what to do next. His chest felt tight, but he ignored the uncomfortable feeling and instead stayed focused on the task at hand. He reached over to pull on his worn, gray sweatshirt and headed for the door when Sandy stopped him in his tracks.

"Where are you going?" Sandy asked.

"I… it's… important. Luke needs me. He…"

"Whoa… whoa…whoa… slow down. What's going on?"

"Can I please borrow your keys?" Ryan pleaded with his mentor.

"Not until you tell me what's going on. What did Meredith say?"

"It's Luke… he… he's in trouble," Ryan explained—his harried words coming out in a deep, breathy voice.

"It's not up to you to save him, Ryan. You don't have to play the parent anymore."

"I'm not… it's… this is different. Please, Sandy… you have to believe me. Luke's been good to me…. he..."

"I trust you," The older man said suddenly, cutting him off.

"What?" Ryan asked—an incredulous expression visible across his benevolent features.

"I said I trust you," Sandy repeated. He was now holding Ryan's gaze intently, and this time Ryan understood.

Sandy was realizing how important Luke was to the young man standing in front of him who he had grown to love almost like a son over the past six months. Understanding that trust for Ryan was hard to come by, he didn't want to deny him the opportunity to help someone he obviously confided in and cared so much about.

"Here are the keys," Sandy acquiesced.

The instant Sandy's words and actions sank in, Ryan felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his heavily burdened shoulders.

Sandy trusted him, and he couldn't remember a time in his life when anyone's trust meant more.

"Here," Sandy said, reaching into the pocket of his gray slacks and pulling out his cell phone. "We haven't gotten you a phone yet, but take mine in case of an emergency. If anything bad happens while you're over there, please don't hesitate to call the house."

"Thanks for doing this," Ryan replied, earnestly looking into Sandy's sincere blue eyes. He held his foster father's gaze steadily, unable to bring himself to look away.

Sandy would never forget that look. It was a look of both gratitude and admiration, but this look also conveyed something deeper: trust. This kid who had trusted nobody had now opened up his heart enough to let Sandy in. It was at this moment of realization that Sandy knew he had made the right decision.

He and Ryan had just taken two steps forward in their relationship.

* * *

When Ryan arrived at the Wards' house, he found Meredith sitting on the front porch next to her flower garden. She was crying.

"I checked everywhere I could think of that he would be. The door to his room is locked but he isn't answering. I'm so scared, Ryan. Some of the alcohol I keep in the basement is gone," She informed Ryan. She was in denial and unsure of what to do.

"How much did he take?" Ryan asked.

"A bottle of Bacardi 151 is missing," She replied, leaving Ryan with an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Luke was drinking over-proof rum now? That stuff was almost purely alcohol.

"It's my fault. I knew he had been drinking a lot recently and I should have known he would react like this when I told him he had to go live with his uncle," She sobbed.

"Hey, it's not your fault, okay?" Ryan comforted her.

She clung onto him, and he stood there for almost a minute, letting her cry into his shoulder before breaking away from her.

"I'm going up there," He announced, hastily making his way into their house and running up to Luke's room. Meredith followed behind him.

"Luke?" Ryan cried out, banging as hard as he could on his friend's door.

"Luke? It's me, Ryan. You in there, man?"

Still, he got no response.

"Should we check outside again? Maybe he's not in here after all," Meredith questioned.

"Wait," Ryan interrupted her. "You hear that?"

After a few moments of silence, the sound of retching and choking that Ryan had recognized returned.

"Oh my God!" Meredith cried out. "What do we do? What do we do? What if it's too late to get him out of there? How do we get him out?"

She began to panic as the thought of her son choking on his own vomit mortified her thoughts.

Taking charge of the situation, Ryan tried to calm her. Freaking out right now wasn't going to help Luke.

Most teenagers wouldn't know what to do, but due to the harrowing experiences from his past, Ryan knew all too well.

"I'm going to try to get him out," He explained. "Call an ambulance…," he further instructed, eerily reminded of the time he had called one to save Dawn's life two years before. Then of course there was the time he had watched Trey call one for Dawn after she almost overdosed on heroin.

There had also been a time when he had suffered the effects of alcohol poisoning after Dawn's boyfriend at the time, Jeff, thought it would be funny to spike his soda with pure Absinthe.

Just the memory of that situation made Ryan nauseous. He had only been ten years old at the time and had almost died. Nevertheless, he shook off the painful memories, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

He only hoped that it wasn't too late to get to Luke. He couldn't handle losing the friend he had grown to trust the most in Newport.

Struggling to gain composure, Meredith grabbed the nearest phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Meanwhile, without hesitation, Ryan pulled out his wallet and grabbed the first card he saw, which happened to be a credit card the Cohens had given him for emergencies. Well this was an emergency.

He tried to pry the lock open with the credit card, but after three failed attempts, he knew he had no choice but to try to kick down the door.

Ryan tossed his wallet aside and quickly examined the hinges of the door to see where it opened. With all the energy he could muster, he kicked the side of the door nearest to the keyhole.

Nothing happened.

He kicked the door again.

Still nothing.

He sighed tiredly, suddenly wishing that he had listened to Trey when he'd offered to show him how to pick a lock. However, despite his frustration, he wasn't giving up. He'd just try to use the credit card again.

He jiggled the lock with the card and applied as much force as he could to try to jimmy the door. After several minutes of doing this without success, he tried kicking the door again, but still couldn't manage to open it.

Now shouldering the door with all the strength he had left, he jiggled the card against the lock one more time and the door finally cracked open.

Ryan was now panting and exhausted, but he had to keep moving. He swiped a hand through his sweat soaked hair and took a deep breath, coughing uncomfortably before darting into the room.

As he entered, he mentally ignored all the debris and shattered furniture and glass littering it. He'd let those visuals sink in later. Right now, he had to get to his friend.

Promptly, he spotted Luke's limp form lying in a supine position on the floor in the corner of the dark room. He was still heaving and was unconscious. Kneeling down beside him, Ryan slowly turned him onto his side and then checked his pulse.

Luke's pulse was very weak as Ryan expected, but Ryan chose to stay positive. Although Luke was breathing very shallowly, he was still breathing. He could survive this. He had to.

The room was dark, making it difficult to see. Since it was April and still fairly light outside, Ryan tried pulling the blinds up to let some light in. However, still unable to examine Luke's complexion the way he wanted to, he turned on the light switch. He then sat once again by Luke's side, ready to check his face for discoloration. Sure enough, he noticed the pale blue hue coloring his lips.

Luke needed oxygen, and he needed it fast.

By now, Meredith was staring in awe at Ryan as he attended to her son, but she couldn't bring herself to move or speak—the shock hindering her actions.

Ryan, on the other hand, was used to this. When he was 14, Dawn had almost died of acute alcohol induced liver failure.

Ryan kept his attention on his friend and noticed that Luke was still vomiting profusely. However, he refused to leave his side—not even for a pail or a bucket. Almost instinctively, he pulled out the cell phone he had just been given and dialed the ten digits that had been etched in his memory indelibly since the day he met Sandy in juvie.

After two rings, his foster father picked up.

"Ryan? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No. Can you… could you get down here?" He croaked.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Luke's. An ambulance is coming. I… it doesn't look good," Ryan informed him—his voice quivering. He was terrified.

"On my way, kid," Sandy assured him. "Hang in there," he added before hanging up.

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, the paramedics arrived on the scene. As Ryan and Meredith answered a few questions for them, Luke was lifted onto a gurney and an oxygen mask was placed over his face to aid with his breathing.

A few minutes later, Sandy also arrived on the scene, immediately hurrying over to where Ryan and Meredith were talking to one of the paramedics outside.

As her symptoms of shock worsened, Meredith eventually fainted and was also strapped onto a gurney, leaving Ryan and Sandy alone for a minute.

"How are you holding up?" Sandy asked the distressed teenager.

"I haven't really had time to think about it," Ryan replied, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and looking down at the ground. "I just hope Luke's okay, you know?" He added, looking back up to meet Sandy's gaze.

"Come on," Sandy said, patting Ryan on the back and nudging him forward in the direction of the Rover. "I'll leave my car here. Give me the keys. I'll give you a ride to HOAG."

* * *

Two hours had passed since the ambulance had rushed an unconscious Luke off to HOAG.

Sandy had informed Kirsten and Seth of his and Ryan's whereabouts but had urged them to stay home. Meanwhile, Meredith had regained consciousness and was being treated for symptoms of shock while Ryan was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the lobby of the emergency waiting room reading an outdated copy of Sports Illustrated. For the past thirty minutes, Sandy had been making phone calls and talking to doctors, and he was now on his way back to the lobby to give Ryan an update.

"You look really into that magazine," Sandy bantered, taking a seat next to Ryan and snatching the copy of Sports Illustrated from him. He was hoping to lighten the tension in the room a little and get Ryan to relax.

"Just bored," Ryan replied, shrugging his shoulders and clasping his hands together to rest on his lap as he offered his foster father a tiny smile. "And there was nothing else…," he added.

However, his smile quickly faded into a more doleful expression as he prepared himself to ask his next question.

"Any news on Luke?" he asked.

"Well they've finally stabilized him, but the doctor said he's not likely to come out of the coma until another day or so. They're still pumping his stomach and they have him on haemodialysis. Apparently he was suffering from metabolic acidosis. He had a BAC of 0.36. It kills me to think about what he must have been going through to let himself drink that much," Sandy said.

"So he's going to be okay?" Ryan inquired, his eyes simultaneously shimmering with sadness and hope.

"Well he's not completely out of the woods yet, but the doctors are confident that he'll bounce back and make a full recovery," Sandy replied. "I just got off the phone with Carson, and he's on his way. He booked a last minute flight."

"That'll be good for Luke," Ryan said thoughtfully, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He misses him."

Sandy was proud of Ryan, but he also wanted some answers.

"How did you know what to do tonight?" He asked, pausing for a few seconds before continuing. "You saved that kid's life, Ryan. If you hadn't gotten there and done what you did… well… he would have died," He added quietly.

As Ryan's mind drifted to a sequence of unpleasant memories, his body tensed significantly and for a minute, Sandy could see a pained, lackluster expression threaten to rob his eyes of their usually remarkable intensity. It was as if he were in a trance, staring catatonically at the white washed wall in front of him.

"It's not the first time I've been in that situation," Ryan answered reticently, and when Sandy realized he wasn't going to elaborate more, he dropped the subject, making a mental note to come back to it at a later time.

Finally breaking the hypnotic state that was enveloping his mood, Ryan took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. The adrenaline rush he had been running off of while attending to Luke was long gone and his body was beginning to feel the full effects of his physical exertion. Every inch of his body ached, and his cough was worsening as the evening progressed.

Sandy noticed how pale his complexion seemed compared to earlier in the evening and was becoming worried again. To put it mildly, Ryan looked ill and run down.

"That cough of yours keeps sounding worse and worse. I can probably pull a few strings since Kirsten and I have known the Canales family for many years. Since we're already here, would you mind seeing Dr. Canales to get the cough checked out if he's willing to see you tonight?" Sandy asked.

"Do I have a choice?" Ryan asked with a sigh.

"Not over my dead body," Sandy chuckled.

"Didn't think so," Ryan replied. He wasn't in the mood to see a doctor, but he didn't want to upset Sandy so he acquiesced.

"Yeah, I'll see him if you want me to."

* * *

Dr. Canales was wiped out. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a good night's rest, and he had already been on call for the past two days. His stomach was growling and he was eager to get home to his wife and two daughters.

Running his own clinic was no easy task, but what added to his stress was the fact that he also worked at HOAG at least four days a week as their primary physician for preventative and family medicine. These work hours meant that for the most part, his entire day was spent seeing patients and he had little time to himself. In fact, he had already seen at least twenty patients over the past several hours before agreeing to do Sandy the favor of examining his foster son.

Grabbing Ryan's chart from its holder on the wall adjacent to the door, Dr. Canales stepped into the examining room.

Ryan, who had been waiting to be seen by him for almost twenty minutes now, was restlessly fidgeting with the pages of the sports magazine the nurse had leniently let him bring into the room to keep him entertained.

Upon hearing the rhythmic creak of an opening and closing door, Ryan immediately refocused his attention on the middle aged Hispanic gentleman in the white coat entering the room.

"Hey, Ryan," Dr. Canales greeted him warmly. "How's soccer season going for you? My youngest daughter loves soccer. I think she's old enough to try out for an AAU team this year."

"Great," Ryan answered quietly. "It's going great."

"Very good," replied the doctor as he began examining Ryan's chart. "Well it's time to get down to business. It looks like the last time I examined you was for a physical so that you could play on the team."

Ryan merely nodded his head in response.

"And last time you were here I prescribed Zyrtek for your allergies. Have you been taking it daily?" He inquired.

"Yes, sir," Ryan said.

"You don't have to call me sir," Dr. Canales laughed. "That makes me feel old. Doc will do," He said smiling at the shy boy's politeness. Ryan responded to his laid back demeanor with a sheepish grin of his own.

"So how have you been feeling lately?" The doctor continued his interrogation.

Ryan swallowed hard. He knew he had to be honest with Dr. Canales about his health even if it lead to the Cohens hovering over him should something be wrong with him other than allergies.

"Not so good," He answered as the physician continued scribbling notes on his chart.

"How is your energy during soccer practice?"

"I'm always tired," Ryan admitted.

"Have you been sleeping well?" Dr. Canales asked.

"Well… no," Ryan confessed.

"Is there a particular reason for that?"

"Um, no," Ryan lied. He didn't want to admit to having troubling nightmares. "Just studying late I guess."

"Well last time I examined you, you were a healthy 170 lbs. You're down to 153 lbs. in a little over six months. Was this weight loss intentional?"

"No," Ryan answered, grimacing slightly. He had been shocked when the nurse told him his weight half an hour before. He knew he'd lost weight since living with the Cohens, but he hadn't realized it'd been that much.

"How has your appetite been lately?"

"Not good," Ryan replied softly. "I…," he tried to elaborate, but a painful bout of coughing temporarily prevented him from doing so.

"I get full fast," He finally answered, regaining control over his breathing.

"That's quite a cough you have there. I remember you having a mild cough when I saw you last, but it definitely sounds worse now," Dr. Canales said, inserting each ear piece of his stethoscope into his ears.

"I need you to take a deep breath for me on the count of three, okay? I have to listen to your lungs to make sure nothing is abnormal."

"Okay," Ryan answered.

Placing the rounded piece of the stethoscope in the vicinity of Ryan's chest cavity, Dr. Canales counted to three and on the third count, Ryan inhaled as deeply as he could—coughing both before and after expiring. However, Dr. Canales only detected the latter cough. After listening to the teenager's breathing one more time, he put the stethoscope away and continued his examination.

"Have you been wheezing?"

"A little," Ryan replied.

"How often do you wheeze? Is it after exercising? Before? During?"

"All of the above I guess," Ryan admitted.

"Have you been falling back in practice?"

"No," Ryan answered confidently. He had just been made a team co-captain. Even if he felt sluggish and fatigued during practice, Coach Nielson hadn't noticed and he definitely was able to keep up with his teammates.

"Have you experienced any shortness of breath?"

"Yeah, a little," Ryan responded. "When I cough and if I'm running hard."

"Your oxygen count is a bit on the low side—hovering around 93%, but you're not running a fever. I'm going to send in a prescription for an inhaler and a starter pack of methyl prednisone. Your chart doesn't indicate any previous experience with asthma, but you're currently showing signs of it. You also have bronchitis so I am going to order in an antibiotic to see if that clears up the cough. I'll have your guardians bring you back in about two weeks for a check-up."

"Can I still play on Saturday?" Ryan asked. He wanted so badly for Sandy to see him play in this important game that he didn't care how sick he was. He had to be out there on the field, and he also needed to help his team win the game for Luke so that he could dedicate the game ball to him.

"I think it should be okay since you said you aren't having any trouble keeping up in practice, but I will write a note to your coach to cut back your minutes a little bit and to keep a close eye on you and make sure you aren't over-exerting yourself. The methyl prednisone and antibiotic should reduce the symptoms of your cough and my nurse will show you and your guardians when and how often to use your inhaler."

"Asthma, huh?" Ryan asked skeptically—more so to himself. A little voice in the back of his head kept telling him that something was off about the diagnosis, but he tried as hard as he could to ignore it. However, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more than asthma that was causing his persistent and painful cough. Not to mention, he felt tired all the time and was finding it more difficult each day to find an appetite. Did asthma really affect people's appetite?

"That's right, sport," Dr. Canales replied affectionately. "But plenty of people live with it and have no problems and lead an athletic lifestyle."

Ryan nodded dubiously.

"Well I'm going to go write out your prescriptions and talk to Sandy about your treatment and medications. Good luck at the game this weekend!"

"Thanks," Ryan smiled hesitantly.

For now, he'd choose to believe that everything would be okay despite the gnawing feeling of anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach, which warned him that something was terribly wrong. Little did he or his foster family know that they were about to face the most difficult time of their lives.

**A/N 2: I hope you enjoy and if you can, please review! The quicker (and more) I get reviews, the more inspired I get to write so keep them coming! It's a great motivator because it lets me know what I'm doing right or wrong as a writer so I can keep on improving and trying to make the story better. Thanks so much! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, not even the adorable Ryan Atwood/Ben McKenzie. The OC universe and all of its characters were created by Josh Schwartz and owned by him as well. Don't sue me Josh! I mean it! No copyright infringement intended!

**A/N: ** First and foremost, I want to thank my lovely beta, beachtree. Once again, she's been amazing!

And I am really sorry I took so long to get this chapter to you guys. On the plus side, it's a really long chapter (just like the last one was) so at least there's a lot of content, right? So in this chapter, a lot happens to poor Ryan. Also, relationships will begin to develop even more. There is some sort of tension between a lot of characters in this chapter (even Sandy and Kirsten; also Seth and Ryan; Seth and Sandy).

The Seth part in this chapter is a bit AU. I don't think Seth on the show would be this selfish, but for the purposes of the story, I think it would make things more interesting and Seth will redeem himself in the next chapter.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I have a lot going in my life, but Ch. 5 will be a bit shorter so hopefully I'll be able to get that to you guys faster. **If you get a chance, please leave me a review so I know there are people still reading this story.** The more reviews I get, the more I'll probably be inspired to finish this. Love you guys! Now on with the story! Enjoy!

**~*~*~*~CHAPTER FOUR~*~*~*~**

"You're up early," Sandy said in an upbeat voice as he walked into the kitchen, still clad in his floral sky blue and red surfing trunks and a gray t-shirt that read _Put a Long Board Between My Legs _in bold white lettering across the front. "One of these days, I've got to get you on a board. You'll love it! The waves are good this time of year and it's great for the soul. You know what they say. You haven't experienced life until you've been on a surf board," Sandy continued, brushing a hand through his damp black hair.

Normally Ryan would have shuddered at the idea of surfing, but if it meant he'd get to spend more time with the first person he could remember ever believing in him unconditionally, he was in.

"If you have time...," Ryan said, looking up at Sandy through his lashes. "I'd like that."

"Honey Nut Os today, huh?" Sandy asked playfully, quirking up one of his dark, bushy eyebrows.

"Yeah, Seth ate all the Capn' Crunch so...," Ryan answered, unable to hide his smile.

"I bet he ate the last English muffin too," Sandy said, looking through the fridge in search of something to eat. "I swear, everyday I feel that rebellious son of mine has more of Kirsten's genes," he quipped, earning him a quiet chuckle from Ryan.

"I got some salt bagels last night after work," Ryan offered.

"Oh, kid, you didn't have to. It's Kirsten's and my job to buy the groceries. You should save your money," Sandy replied.

"I'm sorry," Ryan responded diffidently. "I... overheard you tell Kirsten you were craving them and... the bakery is right near The Crab Shack so I thought...," he trailed off, ducking his head and folding his hands firmly together in his lap.

It broke Sandy's heart to see how quickly the boy's demeanor changed in a matter of seconds when he thought he did something wrong.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Ryan. What you did was extremely thoughtful. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

Despite Sandy's efforts, Ryan remained seated in the same position with his head downcast so he tried once more to get the kid to understand. "Look at me," he said softly, now standing just inches away from him.

Ryan slowly lifted his head and made eye contact with his foster father.

"Thank you for the bagels," Sandy added with a gentle smile while he affectionately squeezed Ryan's shoulder.

As Ryan loosened up again, Sandy relaxed more as well and sat down next to him at the breakfast table. He knew it was now or never. There were some things he'd been wanting to talk to Ryan about and he needed to get them off his chest before it was too late.

"I'm sorry I reacted the way I did," Sandy apologized. "I'm just worried about how much you've been working and then to find out that you're voluntarily buying groceries for us...," he added.

"Sandy, I'm fine. Really. You don't have to worry about me," Ryan replied.

"You willingly help Rosa around the house every chance you get... you refuse to let us pay for stuff... it's just hard for me to wrap my head around it. Seth never worked a day in his life. We want what's best for you, and you already seem to be running yourself to the ground...," Sandy explained.

"Sandy...," Ryan tried to interject, but Sandy continued.

"You're a great kid, Ryan. I just want you to understand that you don't have to be the parent anymore. What you did for Marissa before she left for rehab in San Diego several months ago... what you did for Luke the other night... even the things you do for Seth. No kid your age should have to be responsible for anyone other than themselves and it worries me that you feel responsible for everyone."

Sandy paused momentarily to take in his foster son's appearance, frowning as he realized how exhausted the kid looked. Dressed in his characteristic wife beater and navy blue sweatpants, it was now easy to tell how much weight Ryan had lost since first coming to live with them. His face had thinned out significantly, and even with the extra sleep from not having to attend soccer practice this past week, his face and eyes appeared utterly worn down. Sandy mentally kicked himself for not noticing Ryan's deteriorating appearance earlier.

"We want you to focus on school," Sandy advised, realizing Ryan wasn't going to say anything further.

"I am... I mean... I do. I'm trying, really I am...," Ryan panicked, fearful that maybe Sandy found out about his low grade in chemistry a few days prior.

"Slow down, kid. That's not what I mean. I know you try hard. You study harder than any student I've seen. That's not the point. I want you to be able to focus on school and not have to worry about life. You rarely open up to us about your former life, but it doesn't take rocket science to figure out how difficult things were for you. I want you to finally get a chance to be a teenager."

Understanding where Sandy was going with his argument, Ryan acquiesced.

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll try," He said—his words so quiet that Sandy had to read his lips to confirm what was said.

"Now, I'm looking forward to that game of yours today," Sandy smiled, changing the subject and nudging Ryan's arm playfully.

"Me too," Ryan responded. The left side of his mouth rose into a tiny half smile that reached his eyes.

"So where are the bagels?" Sandy asked, hoping Ryan didn't hear his stomach growling.

Ryan chuckled.

"On the counter... next to the toaster," he answered.

"Sounds good," Sandy said, reaching over the counter to pick up the bag of bagels. "And they're already cut in half! Good work! That's less work for me. Have I shown you how to schmear the perfect bagel yet?"

"I haven't gotten the one-on-one version yet, but I've had plenty of opportunities to watch," Ryan smirked.

"Well if I've taught you anything, remember that schmearing a bagel is an intense form of art. The more you practice, the better you get," Sandy explained, sitting next to Ryan again with a salt bagel in one hand and a butter knife and large container of cream cheese in the other. The two of them enjoyed a moment of bonding as Ryan completed his bagel schmearing crash course.

"So...um, I'm going to go visit Luke in the hospital before meeting with coach," Ryan informed Sandy, standing up on his way to wash his empty cereal bowl.

"Alright, kid. But remember what I told you. It's not your responsibility to save everyone."

* * *

As Ryan walked to the pool house to grab his cleats and soccer uniform, he hadn't noticed Seth sitting on the family room couch pretending to read an X-men comic. The lanky boy had eavesdropped on his and Sandy's entire conversation over breakfast.

Ever since Ryan had returned from taking Luke to the hospital, he had spent most of his time holed up in the pool house sleeping—too out of it to participate in many activities with Seth.

The lack of Seth-Ryan time had frustrated Seth and to make matters worse, he was growing increasingly jealous of the amount of time his father was spending with Ryan.

Oblivious to his foster brother's approaching footsteps, Ryan changed into a pair of jeans and a black shirt and then grabbed his soccer bag and exited the pool house. As he locked the door and retrieved his bike, he noticed Seth standing in front of him.

"Hey," the dark-haired boy greeted him casually.

"Hey, Seth," Ryan replied with an awkward smile, coughing painfully immediately after. "I came looking for you earlier this morning to see if you wanted to get a couple of games in on the PlayStation before breakfast, but you weren't in your room."

"Yeah, there was a Yuyu Hakusho marathon on Cartoon Network," Seth answered stiffly. "You visiting Luke right now?"

"Yeah," Ryan replied.

"Cool," Seth responded. "I mean... that's cool. He's your friend... he's in the hospital... you should visit him."

"Seth...," Ryan reacted, furrowing one of his eyebrows.

His friend was behaving far too uncharacteristically quiet for his liking. Despite finding Seth's incessant babble a bit much at times, he also couldn't deny the fact that he often welcomed it since it distracted him from his problems. Being around Seth reminded him of what it could feel like to be carefree and for that he was grateful. More importantly, he cared a lot about the other boy, and he could tell something was bothering him.

"So... what's going on... you okay?" He asked, a little bit concerned.

"What's it to you?" Seth shot back and Ryan flinched a little at his tone. He felt bad. Perhaps he did something to agitate him.

"Look. If... I did anything to upset you... I'm sorry...," Ryan began, but Seth cut him off.

"Don't worry about it," Seth snapped. "I'll see you at your game."

Seth contemplated wishing Ryan _good luck_, but he couldn't bring himself to drop the self-pity act. He knew he was being immature and unfair to the guy who had been nothing but there for him all year. On top of that, he would be one of the first people to admit that Ryan deserved all the attention he was getting for overcoming so much and working so hard.

Still, Seth couldn't fight the disgruntled feeling that was lingering in the pit of his stomach. Instead, all he could think about was that before Ryan came to live with them, his parents paid much more attention to him. Sure he had been ready to get away from home and go to boarding school on the East Coast had Ryan not shown up, but things were different now, and he envied Ryan for getting to spend so much time with his dad. It was _his_ dad after all... not Ryan's.

Seth also hated the idea of Ryan spending so much time with other friends. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't get himself to _not_ feel this way. So caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed Ryan's pale complexion or how exhausted he looked.

"Okay then," Ryan responded, confused by Seth's behavior. "Later."

As Ryan got on his bike and road away, Seth kept playing the conversation they'd just had over and over again in his head. If he didn't change his attitude, it was going to be a long and unpleasant weekend.

* * *

"Hi, Mr. Ward," Ryan greeted Luke's father at the hospital entrance.

"Ryan, it's good to see you," Carson smiled sadly. "Please call me Carson. I think we're way past formal greetings by now."

"Sorry," Ryan said, the left edge of his mouth contorting awkwardly into a small and uneasy smile. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he averted his eyes—his head arching downward. He'd called Luke's dad by his first name before. Why did he forget to this time?

"Ryan, it's okay. Really," Carson chuckled, trying to put him at ease.

"Ah...," Ryan paused, regrouping his thoughts. "How is he?" He finally asked, looking up again. He'd been ready to ask this question since the second he left the house on his way to the hospital. For the past couple of days, he hadn't been able to get the image of Luke's lifeless body out of his mind.

"He's doing a lot better," Carson answered. "He's up now. Come on. Let me take you to him."

"Thanks," Ryan agreed, following a pace behind Carson who was leading the way to Luke's room. "So he's out of ICU?"

"Yes, thankfully. The worst is behind him. They've moved him to the second floor. He's been out of it ever since he woke up, but he'll be happy to see you."

Carson took a deep breath and exhaled, stopping in front of room 201 and turning around to face Ryan. His features conveyed a mixture of both gratitude and seriousness and his eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Thank you," he began, unable to control a lone tear from slowly tricking down his right cheek. "For finding Luke... taking charge and calling an ambulance..."

Ryan nodded once slowly. As he studied Carson's expression intently, he saw what seemed to be gratitude in his kind blue eyes.

Uncomfortable with the idea of Carson giving him so much credit, Ryan decided not to respond right away—hoping his silence would somewhat diffuse all of the praise he was getting. After a moment of awkward silence, he finally spoke up.

"Luke...he...," he trailed off. It was now his turn to take a deep breath, which caused him to cough a little. He fought to hold back a few tears of his own, which were threatening to fall at any moment.

Finally gathering his thoughts, he continued, "He's been there for me."

"And you've been there for him. For all of us. Anything you want, Ryan. Anything. You name it and it's yours. I can't say thank you enough. You...," Carson paused, trying to regain his composure. "You saved my son's life. If it wasn't for you... well... I don't want to think about it," he choked out.

Ryan wasn't sure what to say. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out so he closed it again, biting his lower lip as he did so. Inhaling again deeply, he hugged his arms to his chest tightly, preparing himself to see his friend for the first time since he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance three days before.

"Chino! What up, what up?" Luke exclaimed tiredly from his bed. Although his voice was weak, Ryan could hear the contentment in it.

"Hey, man," Ryan greeted his friend with a rueful smile, positioning himself on a chair next to him.

"I can't thank you enough... for... um...you know...," Luke closed his eyes, searching for the right words to express how he felt. He then opened them and gazed intensely at the boy he admired more than anyone he'd ever known. "I owe you my life, Ryan," he said sincerely.

"You don't owe me anything," Ryan quickly emphasized and Luke smiled appreciatively at him.

"I'm going to let you two be while I go and get something to eat," Carson announced.

"Thanks, Dad," Luke responded and Carson left the room.

"So it must be great getting to see your dad again," Ryan commented, balling his right hand into a fist and holding it out towards Luke's good hand, careful of his IV.

"Yeah. You know... I missed him," Luke agreed as he bumped fists with him.

"How have you been?" Ryan asked. "I mean... considering everything."

"Like I've got the worst hangover in the history of hangovers," Luke replied, half jokingly and half seriously.

"Yeah, I bet," Ryan replied.

"My throbbing knuckles aren't helping much either," Luke explained.

"Yeah, about that," Ryan said, pointing to the large, white cast on Luke's hand. "What'd you do exactly? Punch glass? A wall? Your hard wooden dresser?" Ryan asked glibly.

"Something like that," Luke nodded, grimacing at the memory.

"You know, you can just knock me around next time you get mad if it saves your parents money from having to take you to a hospital. Trust me, man. I'm used to it."

"Ryan Atwood, human punching bag. I'll keep that in mind," Luke smirked. However, the seriousness of his friend's words were not lost on him. He was almost certain Ryan wasn't just referring to days when the two of them used to kick each others' asses. When Ryan said he was _used to_ getting the shit beaten out of him, Luke feared Ryan was implying something more—something about his childhood that Luke wasn't sure he wanted to know about. Trying to keep the mood light despite the heaviness of the conversation, Luke added, "I don't think you're hard enough for my punches anymore though."

"Oh, is that right?" Ryan shifted his head to the right playfully and folded his arms loosely in front of him, feigning shock at Luke's lighthearted insult. "Try me," he said with a wry smile.

However, as Ryan noticed Luke's expression change from relaxed to serious, so did his.

"You're looking pretty rough," the older boy pointed out.

"Not you too. I'm fine, Luke."

Shifting his weight on the bed, Luke said, "I'm just worried about you... that's all." He felt a bit out of place drawing attention to Ryan's weak physical appearance, but he wasn't sure what else to do. He didn't want Ryan to overwork himself.

"You've lost weight. You look... pale. Are you sure you're good to play?"

"The doctor said I have asthma and mild bronchitis. It's not too bad," Ryan tried to assure him. However, not even a second later, he felt a tickle in his throat that triggered his worsening cough, causing him to double over.

"If you say so," Luke rolled his eyes. "You're definitely fine alright," He added sarcastically. "Look, I know you're taking my place as team co-captain, and I wouldn't want anyone else to take over for me as leader of the team, but you can't lead a team when you're not 100 percent."

"I'm fine," Ryan repeated stubbornly.

"You better be because if something bad happens to you out there on the field... I know where you live...," Luke threatened.

"Yeah, but you're stuck in here," Ryan reminded him, smiling impishly.

"Don't remind me," Luke sighed. "Just promise me you'll take better care of yourself."

"M'kay," Ryan agreed hesitantly.

"I mean it," Luke once again stressed how serious he was.

"I will."

An awkward silence filled the room for a couple of minutes before Ryan got the courage to talk about what was on his mind.

"Can I ask you something, man?"

"You're going to ask why I did it, aren't you?" Luke caught on.

"Yeah. I mean... we had that talk and... well I thought...," Ryan looked at his friend, sadness filling his darkening blue eyes.

"I know. And what you said means a lot. I know how difficult it is for you to open up like that."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I guess... I just sort of lost it after the meeting with Dr. Kim and then my mom getting all mad at me and stuff... kicking me out of the house... and then I started thinking about my dad and all sorts of other things and next thing I know, I'm drunk, kicking shit around my room and not thinking clearly. I don't know what happened that night. I guess I... just wanted..."

"An escape," Ryan finished his thought.

Luke shook his head. "How'd you know?" He asked, impressed that the other boy understood how he felt.

Ryan sighed—too mentally exhausted to explain himself.

"You had me promise I'd take care of myself... now, it's your turn to promise me something."

Luke didn't say anything so Ryan continued.

"Promise me you'll put all this behind you. Get your life together. You're worried about me? How do you think I felt about you the other night? You could have died, Luke! I...," Ryan took a deep breath—coughing a little—and then explained, "I can't keep doing this... it's... hard, you know?"

His breathy words came out more heavily loaded with emotion and pain than he intended.

"I'm sorry," Luke apologized, his words regretful, but genuine as he realized the extent of the damage his actions had had on his best friend. "I promise."

Content with Luke's response, Ryan slowly nodded—a look of simultaneous relief and distress on his face.

"Well... I have to meet up with Coach now, but... I'll try to visit you tonight," He said.

"Good luck, Chino," Luke stated. "Make me proud," he added, smiling brightly.

Ryan gave him one of his signature half smiles and pumped fists with him one more time before heading out in preparation for the big game.

* * *

A little over two hours later, Caleb arrived at the Cohen mansion to pick up his daughter.

"Kiki. I'm here," he greeted Kirsten, walking over to where she was seated and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"Oh, hi, Dad. You're here early," She observed.

"You must be joking. It's almost one. We have to leave in half an hour. Are you almost ready for the big meeting?" He asked, setting his briefcase down on the glossy wooden floor.

"Yes, Dad. Everything is under control. I promise," She answered, going over a couple more floor plans at the kitchen table.

"We can't be late. And we'll take my Aston Martin," He informed her before turning around to see Seth entering the room.

"What are you doing here?" Caleb asked his grandson. "You should be out with that boy... what's his name again? Your new friend... the stray kid that self-righteous father of yours insisted live in _my_ house."

"Dad...," Kirsten interjected disapprovingly in the background.

"Where is he anyway? Stealing cars somewhere? Beating people up? Burning down model homes?" Caleb ignored her and continued throwing insults.

"He's getting ready for a soccer game," Seth replied nonchalantly.

He wanted to defend Ryan. After all, over the past six months he had grown to think of him as a very close friend—a brother even, and without him, he'd still be getting picked on and having his shoes peed in at school. At the same time, he just wished someone in his family would notice him. Even though Caleb had nothing good to say about Ryan, it still hurt that he was talking about Ryan—not even seeming the least bit interested in Seth's life. However, in a twisted way, he had to admit it felt good to hear negative things said about his foster brother for a change considering he seemed to be the one always getting the praise lately.

"Well you certainly don't have the body or stamina to be an athlete, so I can see why you're not with him. At least someone living here can play a sport even if I detest that kid," Caleb flippantly remarked.

"It's good to see you too, Grandpa," Seth countered sarcastically, turning around and walking away as his mom approached.

"Where are you going, sweetie? I thought you were going to watch Ryan's game?" She inquired.

"Yeah...well, think again. I don't see you going to it," Seth argued.

"Don't talk to me that way. I'm your mother! I can't go to the game. I...," she looked at Caleb for some back up, but when he just continued fiddling with his BlackBerry, she quieted her tone and merely said, "I have obligations. Work. You don't. Sandy wanted us to go as a family. Since I can't go, the least you can do is support your friend."

"Whatever," Seth responded indifferently as he made his way to the staircase.

Kirsten sighed. She couldn't force Seth to go if he didn't want to, but she couldn't help but wonder if something had happened between him and Ryan. The last thing she wanted was two bickering teenagers in the house.

* * *

"Blanche! Over here!" Anna greeted Summer, waving from her seat on the visitor's side of the bleachers.

"Hey, Rose! Thanks for saving me a seat!" Summer smiled as she climbed the bleachers to sit next to her friend.

"You're welcome," Anna answered.

Dressed in a tight fitted maroon and white colored t-shirt and a pair of dark blue form-fitting jeans, Anna came prepared to show off her school spirit. Her short hair rested softly against her shoulders under a maroon cap that read _Harbor_ across the front in fancy white lettering, and her white Pirate earrings matched her tennis shoes.

"I brought face paint!" Summer exclaimed, holding up the bag.

Her choice of attire also displayed a great deal of school spirit. Sporting high heels, a tight maroon colored mini skirt, and a white form-fitting blouse that read _'Go Pirates!'_ across the chest, nobody would deny that she looked stunning all decked out in her fan gear.

"I saw an episode of _The Valley_ once where Mark had this football game, and anyway, April went all out of her way and became like the ultimate cheerleader for him. Isn't that so romantic? She had face paint and everything so I thought we could try it too."

"Is that the show with Grady Bridges in it?" Anna inquired.

"Yep! That's the one! He is sooo... freakin'... hot. In a nerdy..., unconventional..., goofy kind of way... kind of like... oh, what's his name again? Dark, curly hair... built like a pogo stick?"

"Seth," Anna chimed in.

"Right. King of the irony. Where is Cohen anyway?" Summer asked.

"I'm not sure. He's supposed to be here already, but I haven't seen him. This should be fun though, right? Supporting Ryan and the rest of the team... and I think the face paint thing is a terrific idea," Anna replied, taking the bag from Summer's hands and opening it to reveal three containers of maroon, black, and white face paint and a bag of silver and gold glitter.

"As long as the humidity doesn't friz out my hair and my face doesn't get fried from the sun because that would just be... Ew!" Summer exclaimed.

Anna gave Summer an unimpressed look so the brunette quickly added, "Kidding!" and the two girls chuckled.

"Your hair looks fine, Summer," Anna complimented her with a genuine smile.

"Thanks. Yours too! Well I mean... I'm sure it looks great under the cap and everything, and those earrings are gnarly," Summer said, positioning her head so that Anna could begin face painting.

As Anna added some glitter to the maroon pirate she was working on, she asked, "So is this the first Harbor soccer game you've attended?"

"Yeah. It is, but it's supposed to be a good one so..."

"Yeah, Ryan's first game as a co-captain," Anna blushed.

"Oh. My. God. Do you have a crush on Chino?" Summer asked, excited.

"No. Well... not like that. He's just really great to talk to. He has this inner sweetness that I admire and he seems to be a really good listener. I'd like to get to know him better because I think he'd make a good friend. Plus, I really respect how he's turned his life around."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Summer agreed. "On a different note, I'm really hot. Are you hot? It's like... a five hundred degree furnace outside."

"I think all the players are feeling the heat too. I mean both coaches are letting them warm up without their jerseys on," Anna pointed out.

"It all makes sense now! Don't you see?"

Anna shook her head '_no'_ so Summer explained further, "All the hot jocks running around the field... showing off their ripped muscles? They're _caliente_! Too hot to handle and we're feeling the heat!" Summer beamed in an uptempo voice, pretending to fan herself off.

"Yeah," Anna agreed, laughing.

"Too bad Cohen couldn't hit a soccer ball to save his life," Summer went on. "His scrawny little ass might have actually looked kind of cute all dressed up in a soccer uni. Chino fills his out quite nicely though..."

However, she paused as she noticed Ryan's sluggish form walking towards the bench down below to retrieve a bottle of water.

"Or he used to...," She trailed off, taking in his unusually thin physique.

The last time she had seen him shirtless was in Tijuana months before when she had accidentally opened the door on him while he was preparing to take a shower in that bug infested, cheap motel's dirty bathroom. Since he generally wore a lot of layers at school, she hadn't noticed his weight loss over the months, but without his jersey on, it was obvious.

"What's wrong?" Anna asked, concerned that her friend turned silent all of a sudden.

"Ew. What happened to him?" Summer questioned.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Ryan! Is he like... on a vegan diet or something?"

"He's not on any diet! What are you talking about?" Anna laughed.

"I mean when he first got to Newport, he was like... really really hot, right? Those arms. Those abs...cried out, '_I'm sexy. I'm wounded. Somebody save me!_'," Summer explained.

"He still looks good, Summer," Anna stated her opinion.

"He's... looking a little thin these days is all I'm saying...," Summer went on in her best sing-song voice. "And by a little, I mean a lot. I guess he's trying to give toothpick Cohen a run for his money."

"Maybe he's just working really hard in practice," Anna suggested. "I admit he does look a bit worn down though. Actually, he's been looking that way for a while...you know, maybe he's anemic?"

"Anemic?" Summer asked.

"Yeah, Mrs. Applebee talked about it in health class, remember?"

"Kidding! I pay attention. Plus, the evil step monster takes iron supplements."

"Yeah, my mom used to have it and she took iron supplements too."

"Speaking of the devil... look who's approaching!" Summer observed, pointing at the exhausted looking athlete who just spotted them in the crowd. He waved at them and continued walking towards the bleachers.

"Hey, Atwood," Summer greeted him as he got closer.

"Summer... you look...," Ryan stammered. "Wow," he said quietly to himself, turning his head away and hoping she didn't hear him. He felt so embarrassed for finding the girl who was his foster brother's obsession attractive that he hadn't noticed Anna's face fall.

"Okay then. Awkward much?" Summer asked.

_'Ouch,' _he thought silently, definitely getting the vibe that she wasn't liking him back even a little bit, which was probably a good thing since he knew he would never act on his feelings anyway because of Seth.

Diverting attention away from himself, he turned to face Anna.

"How are you?" He asked her, wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead with the white towel he was carrying and then tossing it over his shoulder.

"I'm great, but more importantly... how are _you_ feeling?" She asked, a bit worried about the pallor in his complexion.

"Fine, why?" He asked defensively.

"I just wanted to make sure everything is okay. You don't seem to be all together here," she answered.

"Just...a little nervous I guess," he responded before chewing on his upper lip. "I mean... playing in such a big game... it's all new to me."

"I thought you played a lot of sports back in Chino?"

"Yeah, I did. I just... none of the games were this big," He swallowed nervously, taking a quick glance at all the newspaper reporters snapping photos of the players and holding video cameras. "Also, I never exactly had anyone who cared enough to go to one of my games before," He confessed, looking down quickly and then back up again.

"Well Summer and I wouldn't miss this one for the world. Right Blanche?"

"Yeah, definitely. I mean we're like... your number one cheerleaders! We're totally _Team Chino_... I mean, it's obvious right? We're even painting our faces for you," Summer said, smiling enthusiastically. Ryan's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, which contrasted his pale skin.

"It looks great," He blushed.

"So you ready for the big game?" Anna asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," He replied. He pressed his lips together—scratching the back of his head as he slightly lowered it. Looking up again, he asked,"Hey, have you girls seen Seth or his parents?"

"Nope, haven't seen any of them," Anna replied.

"Oh," Ryan said under his breath, trying to hide his disappointment. He hoped that at least Sandy was still coming to the game.

"Seth was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Maybe he got delayed... or maybe he fell off his skateboard and had some sort of Coheny emergency. I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure they'll all get here soon," Summer tried to assure him.

"Well...um," Ryan looked down again, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Thanks for coming out to watch. Means a lot." He nodded his head _goodbye_ to both girls and then walked down the stands to join his teammates—completely oblivious to the cold look Seth was giving him from behind the bleachers.

Seth had been eavesdropping on his conversation with Summer and Anna. Just an hour earlier, he'd been dead set on not showing up at all, but he knew he couldn't pass up a chance to talk to Summer. He only wished he hadn't seen how free-spirited she and Anna seemed when talking to Ryan. He admittedly felt left out.

Why did everyone give his foster brother so much attention lately? Well, he knew why, but he didn't like it. Ryan was athletic and he wasn't. Ryan was a good listener and he wasn't. Ryan was responsible and he wasn't. Ryan "saved" Marissa in Tijuana when nobody else knew what to do. Ryan saved Luke's life a few days ago. Ryan this, Ryan that. It seemed like that's all Seth heard anymore.

In fact, he realized that he liked it much better the way it had been months before when he was Ryan's only friend in Newport and nobody paid attention to _the_ _kid from the wrong side of the tracks who stole cars and set people's houses on fire _other than Marissa. Well... and Summer at that Newport party Ryan's first night in town... and his dad obviously. Clearly the Sandman couldn't get enough of the brooding bad boy. And shit. Everyone else. But why?

Seth knew he was acting ridiculous, especially considering Ryan hadn't done anything to really warrant his behavior. He even tried to come up with a good rationale for why he didn't feel like supporting his best friend today. He did happen to detest watching organized sports in general. Would that excuse sit well enough with the 'rents? Probably not, but lately he couldn't fight the feeling of annoyance that lingered every time he saw Ryan, so instead of sticking around, he walked back to his mom's car and headed home.

* * *

Down on the soccer field where both teams were still warming up, Coach Nielson noticed how run down his lead striker looked.

Considering how hot and humid it was outside—the temperature hovering right around 95 degrees Fahrenheit, it was understandable that anyone would get more tired than usual during warm-ups, but Ryan just seemed completely out of it. On top of that, it was no secret that unbearably humid days like today sometimes ended in disaster for athletes competing with bad asthma.

Concerned for his player, he pulled him aside to talk to him before the game.

"How are you feeling, Ryan? You're not looking too good."

"Just tired," Ryan admitted quietly—making eye contact with the ground.

"Are you up to playing today? Even as a co-captain, if you aren't well enough, you don't have to play, especially considering the effects the weather may have on your asthma."

"I'll be okay," Ryan insisted.

"Okay, the team trainer has your inhaler so whenever you need it, just signal for a time out."

"Got it," Ryan agreed.

"Now get out there and show me what you've got," Coach Nielson affectionately patted him on the back.

* * *

"Damnit!" Sandy exclaimed, pounding on the steering wheel of his BMW. He was caught in Saturday afternoon traffic on his way to Ryan's game.

"We'll make it, Sandy. Even if we're a few minutes late, I'm sure Ryan will understand," Carson Ward, who was sitting in the passenger seat, said in an effort to calm him down.

"I hope you're right. It's bad enough that Kirsten isn't going. I wanted to talk to Ryan before the game... give him some last minute encouragement."

"I'm sure that you just being there will be enough," Carson replied.

"It's nice of Luke to let you drive down with me to watch the game," Sandy pointed out.

"Well... despite what happened the other day, he's a good kid and Ryan is really important to him. He wanted to be there... to watch him play, but since he can't, he figured me being there is the next best thing. Meredith is with him so he's not alone, and Luke wanted me to snap a few photos," Carson smiled.

For the remainder of the car ride, the two men talked about their children and a number of other topics—building a friendship that neither of them ever expected, and when they finally arrived at Sage Hill's complex, they were thrilled to find that they were only ten minutes late.

* * *

The first half of the game seemed to go by quickly. Immediately after the kick off, Sage Hill had started off strong, making the first goal, but about a minute before the first half ended, Dean came through for Harbor, evening the score.

Ryan quickly made a beeline for the air conditioned walls of Sage Hill's training room and dropped down on a bench—his coach and the team trainers hovering over him. He felt weak and disoriented but that was nothing new. He'd been feeling that way even during warm-ups. Coach Nielson had benched him a few times already, and he knew if he didn't get it together, he wasn't going to get to play for much of the second half. To make matters worse, his spirits were down since he hadn't yet been able to locate Sandy in the stands.

Fifteen minutes later, he exited the training room—almost willing himself to stay focused, but no matter what he did, he couldn't get his legs to stop feeling like Jell-O, nor could he get his chest to stop feeling as if an elephant was sitting on it.

35 minutes into the second half, the game was still tied at 1-1 and Coach Nielson was growing increasingly worried.

"Atwood, get over here!" He yelled after one of his other players kicked the ball out of bounds.

Struggling to get his muscles to cooperate, Ryan lethargically hobbled over to the bench and took a seat next to his coach. He was finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe and he couldn't stop coughing.

"What the hell are you doing? Enough is enough! You're done for the day," Coach Nielson barked at him, agitated by his stubbornness. "Here's your inhaler," he offered, lowering his tone sympathetically and passing the medical device to Ryan.

Ryan puffed and breathed into the inhaler several times. The medication did offer him some relief from his worsening symptoms, but not quite as much as he had hoped for. Within a few minutes, he was doubling over in pain and holding onto his chest.

"I thought you said you rested up during the week and that you were okay to play today," Coach Nielson stated, frustrated. Ryan's cough was becoming more and more frequent and it was making him uneasy.

"I did... I promise. I am. I... I don't know why I'm so out of it," Ryan replied in between labored breaths.

"Are you okay? Do we need to call an ambulance?" Coach Nielson asked, fearful that Ryan was on the verge of an attack.

"No ambulance," Ryan pleaded. "I'll be okay."

Ryan closed his eyes, feeling almost ready to give up. His body felt like crap and emotionally he was drained. Luke was right. He wasn't one hundred percent. Not even close, and he was beginning to doubt his ability to even continue running around the field let alone kicking and dribbling a soccer ball against a team of unrelenting competitors.

Then he heard a faint cheer in the background that caught his attention. As he focused a bit more keenly on the voice, he slowly began to feel rejuvenated—adrenaline taking over his body.

"Check out my boy, Ryan. He's keepin' the Sage Hill players cryin'. He's the star and they know it. When he gets the ball he shows it...!"

As awkward as the cheer was, Ryan couldn't help but smile. Sandy came to watch him play after all.

He searched the crowd harder this time, determined to spot his foster father and sure enough, there he was in the stands sitting next to Carson Ward in a section high up.

Kirsten was nowhere to be seen, but Ryan hadn't really expected her to come anyway. She hated watching sports, and he'd hate to think she sat through an hour and a half of torture just for him, especially when she always seemed so uncomfortable around him. She seemed to only be tolerating him for the other two members of her household anyway.

He was a bit disappointed that he couldn't find Seth in the crowd, but Sandy's presence was enough. He wondered why Carson wasn't with Luke in the hospital, but he had to admit it felt good to have these two men supporting him. Plus, there was Anna and Summer.

A large grin spread across his face as he took in the enthusiasm of the only father figure he had ever known.

His breathing began to slow down and despite still feeling like death warmed over, he refused to sit out the rest of the game.

"I want to keep playing," he firmly informed his coach.

"I don't know, Ryan. You don't look so good. You've done a great job leading the team today. It's not about that, but I'm not sure I want to risk it."

"Just give me a shot. If I feel it's physically impossible to keep hanging in there for the last few minutes, I promise I'll come out, but...," Ryan trailed off, thinking about what Luke said in the hospital.

_Make me proud._

"I want to try. It's my duty as co-captain," Ryan added softly—his deep blue eyes glistening with determination.

"Alright. But if you feel any more discomfort in your chest, I need you to come out of the game immediately. Do you understand me? The last thing I need is for you to suffer an asthma attack."

Ryan nodded.

"This is serious, Ryan. Your health is not a game. I mean it. If I see you struggling, I will decide whether or not you can keep playing and if I say you are to come out, then you are to comply. Understood?"

"I will," Ryan promised stolidly and Coach Nielson patted him energetically on the back.

"Alright, then let's do this!" Shouted the coach as he pulled out his whistle—blowing it twice. "Everyone over here!"

Ryan then took charge.

"On the count of three, Go Harbor. Ready?" He said, leading the way as he and the rest of the team situated themselves next to each other, forming a circle with each player placing one hand on top of one of their teammate's hands.

"One, two, three... GO HARBOR!" The team shouted simultaneously.

* * *

With just five minutes left in the game, the score was still tied at 1-1, and Ryan was more determined than ever to help his team win it.

He was dribbling the ball up the field as fast as he could when Barry Whiting from Sage Hill outran him and kicked the ball out of his possession. Meanwhile, another Sage Hill player, Manny Jefferson, subtly pushed him. Since he was already off balance, Ryan came crashing down to the ground.

"Take that you little punk!" Manny taunted Ryan under his breath. He knew about his friendship with Luke and he and Evan had been good friends for years despite playing on opposing teams.

Coach Nielson's frustration could be heard clearly from the sidelines, but still no red card was called by the referees.

"That's a flagrant foul damnit!" he complained. "It's a flagrant foul!"

Dean, who knew about Manny's disdain for Luke, was also pissed off by the unfair turn the game had taken so he sprinted towards Manny and kicked the ball out of bounds, stopping the clock momentarily.

"You alright?" He asked Ryan, helping him up.

"Yeah," Ryan lied, fighting to breathe normally.

"Come on. We've got a couple of minutes left. We can win this," Dean reassured the less experienced athlete. "For Luke," he added, which earned him an appreciative smile and a high five from Ryan.

A minute later, Barry threw the ball in for Sage Hill.

Ryan dived in front of Manny, intercepting the ball, and Harbor's Chip Daniels took the ball into his possession, managing to break free from two Sage Hill defenders before Ryan finally caught up to him on the side of the field closer to the goal.

Chip passed the ball to Ryan who then dribbled it up the left side of the field as fast as he could, noting Dean sprinting towards the goal in his periphery.

It was now or never.

With less than one minute left on the clock, Ryan made the quick decision to pass the ball off to Dean.

He kicked the ball with just the right amount of force and watched as it floated through the air in Dean's direction. Gaining the momentum he needed, Dean finally leaped into the air and head bunted the ball into the goal.

Harbor had won the County Championship and Dean with his two goals along with Ryan and his game winning assist were now Harbor's unspoken heroes.

* * *

After the game, Ryan wasn't up for socializing with his coach or teammates despite the victory so he decided to bail on them early.

"You ready to go?" Sandy asked, patting him gently on the back as the two of them walked to the car.

"Yeah," Ryan said weakly.

"I'm proud of you. You were great out there today," Sandy praised him—leaving him momentarily speechless. Ryan then tilted his head in Sandy's direction—his eyes examining him through his lashes. What Sandy said, he meant. Sandy was proud of him.

Sandy flushed at the level admiration Ryan seemed to have for him. He loved the kid and it felt good to see how much he'd opened up to him in the past week.

As they continued walking, Ryan spotted Carson standing in front of Sandy's BMW.

"Hi, Mr. Wa—," He began, but quickly noticed his mistake and corrected himself. "Sorry," He blushed. "I meant to say Carson."

"Not a problem. And congratulations on the win, Ryan. That was quite a game. Very brutal, but you hung in there and did well. I only wish Luke could've seen you play," Carson replied kindly causing Ryan to blush once more.

"Thanks," Ryan smiled—though his demeanor suggested he was still guarded.

He opened the back door of the car and gingerly maneuvered his sore body inside while Sandy and Carson made themselves comfortable in the front.

After about twenty minutes of driving, they arrived at HOAG where Sandy dropped Carson off to get some quality time in with his son.

What Sandy hadn't realized was that during the car ride, Ryan had begun feeling nauseous and wasn't in the mood to socialize with _anyone_.

"You want to sit in the front?"

Ryan looked up at Sandy, making brief eye contact before nodding and lethargically stepping out of the car.

"Do you want to stop somewhere to eat before heading home?" Sandy then asked, turning his head to again make eye contact with his foster son, who was now sitting on the passenger side of the vehicle.

"Thanks for the offer, but... not really hungry," Ryan replied honestly, fastening his seat belt as Sandy started up the ignition and drove the vehicle out of HOAG's parking lot.

"After such a rigorous game? I thought you'd be eating up all the restaurants in Newport," Sandy tried to lighten the mood.

When Ryan didn't respond, he tried again, "Are you sure? If we don't stop for food now, you may end up stuck with my wife's cooking later...," He joked, but Ryan merely shook his head.

Another minute passed by in silence, and Sandy's guilt was getting the better of him.

"I'm sorry I was late to your game," He apologized. He wasn't sure what was bothering Ryan, but he needed to make sure things were right between them.

"You were just in time," Ryan responded genuinely.

Sandy turned his head to meet Ryan's gaze just fast enough to notice the boy's content smile before redirecting all of his attention back to the road.

At least Ryan's glum mood had nothing to do with his tardiness.

"I know I've already said this today, but you played great today. You made me proud," He added, earning himself another timid smile, which he observed from his periphery.

"Thanks," Ryan replied—touched that Sandy had reminded him once more that he was proud of him. He felt bad for giving Sandy monosyllabic answers, but he wasn't sure what else to say. He wasn't used to all the attention, and he was struggling to even keep his eyes open. He felt like a big ball of crap.

After another silent minute, Sandy was left feeling that something was still bothering Ryan. Sure the kid was usually quiet, but he'd just helped his team win a very important game. He had hoped Ryan would at least be a little more excited.

"What's bothering you? Is it Kirsten... or Seth?"

"Nothing, Sandy. I'm fine," Ryan fibbed. He knew his guardian deserved to know what was upsetting him, but he was too exhausted to talk about it right now.

"How's your cough?" Sandy asked, disturbed by Ryan's wan complexion.

"Bad," Ryan answered, frustrated that he felt sick enough to admit that.

"How are you feeling otherwise?" Sandy continued his interrogation.

"If I'm being honest... pretty beat actually. I don't think I'm up for celebrating with the team later."

Sandy pulled into a gas station and parked the car.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked, confused.

"Getting a closer look at you. I'm worried about your health and need to know everything," Sandy said firmly. "Why are you sitting like that?" He further inquired, noticing for the first time the awkward manner in which Ryan leaned forward in the seat of the car—his head resting on his hands, which were propped up by the dashboard.

"Huh?" Ryan reacted, suddenly unaware of his surroundings as a wave of dizziness overpowered him. He blinked his eyes several times, and finally after a few seconds, his line of vision meshed back into focus.

"Why are you sitting like that?" Sandy repeated.

"Sorry," Ryan answered. "I must have zoned out. Um... I don't know. It's easier to breathe this way I guess."

"Let me check for a temperature," Sandy insisted, placing his palm against Ryan's sweaty forehead.

Sandy sighed, feeling guilty for letting the kid overexert himself today.

"I'm no doctor, but I think you're burning up. Wait right here. I'm not taking any chances."

"Sandy, wait. What do you mean?"

"I'm calling Dr. Canales. You're not well."

Ryan wanted to argue, but he was too tired. Not even he could deny that this was the worst his body had ever felt.

* * *

When Sandy couldn't get a hold of Dr. Canales, he decided it would be best to just get Ryan back to the house as quickly as possible so he could rest.

However, when he reached the car, panic quickly set in. It appeared that Ryan had passed out in the front seat.

"Ryan?" Sandy tried to nudge him awake, but he didn't respond. "Ryan! Wake up!"

Still nothing.

He checked for a pulse and found a moderate one, but he still couldn't fight the fear that Ryan was seriously ill and only getting worse. He was even starting to question Dr. Canales's diagnosis.

Sandy could feel his stomach drop and his heart race as he nudged Ryan's shoulder hoping the kid's lack of movement was a result of sleep deprivation rather than unconsciousness.

"Ryan, please...," Sandy nudged him again, a little bit harder this time. Intense anxiety caused his heartbeat to quicken even more. "Please, kid. Wake up," he urged.

Finally, Ryan stirred and slowly shifted his body in the seat of the car as Sandy breathed in a sigh of relief.

As Ryan's heavy eyelids opened drowsily, Sandy tentatively asked, "You going to make it?

"I'll be alright," Ryan answered hoarsely.

"You sure? Dr. Canales isn't answering his phone, but I can take you to the hospital if you're not feeling well."

"I'm fine, Sandy. Just tired," he smiled lazily—his eyelids closing slightly over glazed eyes. "I'm just ready to go home."

Home.

It was a word Ryan had never understood until moving to Newport, but gradually he was warming up to the idea of belonging to a family. He prayed everyday that the Cohens wouldn't give up on him, and even though he had his doubts, he still knew that no matter what happened, Sandy was there for him. He'd be okay.

The very thought made him smile and for a brief moment he felt content.

* * *

Sandy sat in the living room, flipping through the latest issue of The New Yorker when the sound of lazy footsteps approaching caught his attention. He glanced up from his magazine to find his curly-headed son pattering towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" Sandy inquired, placing the magazine on the coffee table in front of him.

"To Summer's house...," Seth answered.

"No, you're not. Get over here and sit down. We need to talk."

Seth let out an exasperated sigh and muttered, "Fine."

"You want to tell me where you've been all day?" Sandy asked, disappointed by his son's behavior. "I didn't see you at the game."

"Wow, you noticed," Seth remarked flippantly.

"I don't know where this attitude is coming from, but you better have a good explanation for why you weren't there to support Ryan today," Sandy responded sternly.

"Like you care," Seth rolled his eyes.

"That's not the way you speak to your father," Sandy replied—a bit of hurt in his eyes.

"Last time I checked, fathers spend time with their sons," Seth answered bitterly.

"You know I will always be there to support you, but today wasn't about that! You and me... we had an opportunity to spend some quality time together supporting Ryan and instead you decided to stay home."

"Mom said I could stay home," Seth confessed, shrugging his shoulders defiantly. "So I did."

"She what?" Sandy asked incredulously.

Ignoring his question, Seth shot back,"When the hell did it become all about Ryan anyway?"

"Seth, he's your friend. He's part of the family now, and like it or not, I assure you if you had an important event, he'd be the first person in line to support you."

A hint of guilt flashed in Seth's eyes as he visibly calmed down. He knew his dad was right. If he had been the one playing in a championship game, Ryan would have been excited for him.

"How'd his game go?" Seth asked, feeling slightly embarrassed for the way he'd been acting.

"I think that's something you should ask him yourself. He's in the pool house. I'm going to call your mother."

* * *

Ryan sluggishly ran a towel through his damp hair while using his free hand to search through his drawer for a clean white tank top. His body continued to ache from overuse and his chest still felt like an elephant was sitting on it, but the shower had definitely helped. Still, he couldn't wait to lie down on his bed to take a nap. Just as he finished changing, he heard the latch of the pool house door open. He looked up to find Seth walking stolidly towards him—his brown eyes flickering restlessly around the room.

"Hey," Ryan broke the silence.

"Hey," Seth replied lamely, briefly making eye contact with his pseudo brother before fixing his gaze on a poster of Muhammad Ali that hung on the wall adjacent to Ryan's bed. Every time Seth entered the pool house, he was reminded of just how different he was from his muscly, close-mouthed, tank top rocking pal.

"What's up?" Ryan quickly asked, sensing Seth's discomfort. After all, it seemed like Seth couldn't even look him in the eye. His usually chatty friend certainly hadn't been acting very much like himself the past couple of days and right now he was acting even weirder, which worried him.

"Not much," Seth answered, taking another rigid step towards him. "How was your game?"

"Good," Ryan responded flatly. "We won."

"That's awesome," Seth forced a smile. When Ryan remained silent, he added, "I mean, that's awesome, right? That was a huge game for you guys."

"Yeah...," Ryan replied stiffly, fighting the urge to cough. He tightened his lips into a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. Although he had hoped to see his foster brother at the game, he tried not to feel hurt or upset by his lack of attendance. After all, Seth wasn't into sports, and he shouldn't have to do anything he didn't enjoy doing just for him.

Ryan lowered his head slightly, still maintaining eye contact with the curly headed boy and added, "Look, Seth... I know you didn't come in here just to talk about the game. What's on your mind?"

Seth wanted to apologize so badly for not showing up to support Ryan today. Part of him even wondered if Ryan had spotted him at Sage Hill earlier or if he'd been too preoccupied with whatever Anna and Summer had been saying. He wanted to apologize for how he'd been acting in general, actually. He wanted nothing more than to make things right with Ryan so that he could show him the new video games he bought with his weekly allowance and play him for hours and hours while eating Doritos and potato chips and pizza and drinking Mountain Dew and talking about his plan to ask Summer out today and... well he wanted his best friend back. Not that he'd lost him, but it still felt like there was a big wall standing between them.

The problem? He couldn't get his mouth to budge from its closed position. He felt like his lips were sealed shut with super glue. Actually, he felt like he was trapped in one of those weird horror flicks where some frightened teenage girl is being chased by zombies and tries to scream at the top of her lungs for help but no sound comes out. This verbal constipation was kicking his skinny ass.

He was scared. He was scared he'd say the wrong thing to Ryan and put a permanent rift in their friendship.

"Are you okay, man?" Ryan asked, confused by his silence.

Seth felt really guilty right about now. He tried to shake off the feeling of jealousy that had lingered with him throughout the day, but he still couldn't figure out what to say. Perhaps he wasn't ready to apologize. Maybe he didn't even need to apologize. He definitely wasn't used to apologizing and usually people told him his actions were okay even when he'd thought he did something wrong so why should this time be any different? Not to mention the fact that it didn't exactly seem like Ryan was mad at him...

"Nothing really," He lied.

"You sure?" Ryan queried, wrinkling his forehead pensively.

"Yeah... it was just gas...," Seth faked a smile, chuckling nervously. "I better get over to Summer's before she tries to kill me with an Excalibur or something for being late."

Ryan just stood there in the middle of the spacious room, eying Seth as if he was speaking in Hebrew, so Seth explained, "The latest episode of _The Valley_ had some crazy storyline related to King Arthur and..."

"You watch _The Valley_?" Ryan smirked, cutting him off. He was relieved that Seth at least seemed to be acting a little bit more like himself at the moment.

"I don't. Summer does, but, dude... you're supposed to have my back here. I was hoping you'd have at least a little more confidence in my manhood. Either way, I've gotta get going because the last thing I want to do is piss off Little Miss Vixen and..."

"Little Miss Vixen?" Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side but maintaining eye contact with Seth.

"It's a comic book reference... my com—," Seth caught himself before he revealed too much. He hadn't talked to Ryan yet about the comic book he was working on called _Atomic County_ and he felt that now wasn't a good time to explain it to his quiet friend so he changed the subject and said, "You know what? Never mind... um... bye."

With that, he headed out of the pool house, leaving Ryan even more concerned than he was before. Seth was avoiding him and he knew it.

* * *

Kirsten sat in her office searching hastily for an important document she had forgotten when she heard a buzzing noise coming from her purse.

"_Oh, hi, Sandy," _She answered her cell—still looking through a heap of papers that were now scattered over her desk. She was holding everyone up in the meeting, and while she didn't want to end the phone call, she was distracted. "_Is everything okay?" _

"That depends. Where are you?"

"_With my dad at the Newport Group. Why? What's wrong?"_

"Well when are you coming home?We need to talk."

"_The meeting is running late, but I'll try to be there before dinner. I have to go. Love you," _Kirsten responded—hanging up the phone.

Sandy sighed and flipped his cell phone shut. When had life become so complicated?

Still irritated by his wife's decisions to choose work over supporting her new foster son and to tell Seth he didn't have to go to the game, he walked over to the kitchen and searched through the cabinets for something to eat. He found a bag of Cheetos and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and then settled on the living room couch in front of the TV.

Ryan walked into the main house just as Sandy finished finding a program to watch.

"Is everything alright?" Ryan asked cautiously, approaching the living room couch.

"If I taught you anything... don't ever get married, and if you do? Don't ever have kids."

A tight lipped half smile formed on Ryan's lips. He wanted to joke with Sandy, but he felt guilty for all the trouble he seemed to be causing this family. "You say that a lot. I think it's the third time I'm hearing this from you," He said.

"That's because it's true," Sandy smiled—not noticing the way Ryan's body tensed. "How is your love life by the way? Are you... talking to any girls at the moment?"

Ryan blushed slightly and chewed on the inside of his mouth, shaking his head before answering, "Nah, not really. Just trying to stay focused, you know?"

"Well it looks like you're on the right track," Sandy assured him proudly.

"Can I...uh...," Ryan pointed to a spot on the couch next to him.

"Oh, please do! And help yourself to some Cheetos while you're at it," Sandy smiled.

"Thanks," Ryan returned the smile, taking a seat next to him. Ryan looked up to Sandy, which also meant he was afraid of disappointing him and even more afraid of being rejected by him. He wanted to cherish these relaxed moments with the man he was beginning to view as a role model because he wasn't sure how long it was going to last. "What are you watching?" He asked.

"Oh, this?" Sandy laughed, popping another Cheeto into his mouth and pointing a finger at the TV.

"_Now last season you may remember when I invited families to move into the Dr. Phil house because they said their kids were brats. Those were their words—not mine. __Twelve-year-old__ Noah and his mother, Wendy, left quite an impression on everyone. I know America has been wondering whatever happened to the child who slapped his mother...," Dr. Phil went on and on, introducing the episode. _

"It's just a show about how to discipline out-of-control teenagers," Sandy finished the statement, continuing to chuckle.

Ryan's body visibly tensed. The only forms of punishment he could remember growing up were getting punched in the face, kicked in his side, starved, or being called a worthless piece of shit without even being told what he'd said or done wrong.

He swallowed a lump that was forming in his inflamed throat and nervously asked, "Do I... uh... am I a lot of trouble?"

"Oh, far from it. In fact, I'd argue that you're heaven sent. Kids like you make my job easier," Sandy reassured him, patting him on the back.

Ryan relaxed into the cushion and the left corner of his mouth curved upwards. The smile was almost too tiny to be noticeable, but it did meet Ryan's eyes and that was enough for Sandy to know that his words connected with the kid.

Just as they were getting comfortable, the house phone rang.

"I'll get it," Sandy announced, standing up and walking towards the receiver. A minute later, he returned with the phone in hand. Ryan looked up at him expectantly.

"It's for you. It's your coach," Sandy said, handing the phone over to Ryan.

"Hello?"

"_Ryan, congratulations again on today's game. You did great."_

"Thanks, Coach."

"_I was calling to let you know about tomorrow's practice. I know it's a Sunday, but since we won, we have a chance to compete in the state tournament, and I don't want to waste any time on getting you guys ready. I know you played hard today though and that you haven't been feeling well. Will you be strong enough to go to practice tomorrow?"_

"Yeah. I'm good."

"_Ryan, I need you to be sure. Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"_

"Yeah, it's no problem."

"_Okay then. I'll see you on the field at noon. You coming to the celebration tonight?"_

"I don't think so. I'm... I think I'm just going to relax here with the Cohens if that's okay."

"_That's fine. See you tomorrow."_

"Alright, see you then," Ryan agreed, ending the phone conversation and turning around to face Sandy.

"So I have practice tomorrow," He explained.

"Are you sure you can handle it? You looked like you were going to die on me earlier in the car," Sandy said—his joke not betraying the seriousness of his tone. Dr. Canales still hadn't returned his call, but if Ryan's symptoms worsened even a little, he'd decided he was going to try calling again.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a lot better. I'm just really tired."

"Well feel free to get all the rest you need."

"Actually... I was just about to take a nap if that's okay."

"Go sleep, kid. I'll wake you up before dinner."

* * *

About two hours later, Ryan woke up—his stomach growling lightly. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and the physical exertion of the soccer game had taken a lot out of him. Although he hadn't been hungry immediately after the game, he was relieved to find that he now had a mild appetite.

He stretched out his arms and yawned, sitting up slowly before getting the strength to pull himself out of bed and wash up. Sandy hadn't come to get him yet, but he figured Kirsten and Seth were probably back and he was hoping to see them before dinner.

After washing his face and pulling a pair of jeans over his boxers, he exited the pool house.

His chest still felt heavy, which made it difficult to breathe as he walked, but at least he wasn't coughing as much as earlier.

Just as he opened the door to the main house, the sound of yelling assaulted his ears. Sandy and Kirsten were going at it in the kitchen.

Hoping to remain unnoticed, he slipped into a corner of the living room. As much as he knew he should tear his ears away and leave, his legs refused to move. His heartbeat quickened and his feet felt cemented to the shiny wooden floor as he eavesdropped on their argument.

"_We're the adults here! We're supposed to set good examples for our kids. Family members are supposed to support each other! That's if you even consider Ryan a part of this family," Sandy barked. _

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kirsten shouted back angrily. "I let him into this house! I'm the one who took him out of juvie the last time! I'm the one who announced he'd be staying here after his mom left him for the second time! Of course I want him to be part of the family!"_

"_He's already a part of the family! You just proved my point__! You hardly even spend time with the kid! Or either of our kids—not even Seth!"_

"_That is not true! I am a good mother!" _

"_You know what Seth said to me earlier? He was bothered that I don't spend much time with him. Do you really think it's just me he feels that way about? You're always in the office. You're always with that coldblooded, callous father of yours and no matter how much you work for him, I've got news for you... you're never going to please him."_

"_Sandy, let's not get into this right now, okay? This argument is not about my father and you know it!"_

Ryan could feel every muscle in his body tighten and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. The way Kirsten behaved around him and Seth's recent attitude—it was all starting to make sense.

The Cohens weren't happy. Sandy and Kirsten were fighting because of him. Sandy didn't spend enough time with Seth because he was always in the way.

He felt responsible for tearing apart yet another family. They seemed so happy before he came to live with them, and now they were yelling and bickering and it was all because of him. He needed to get out of the house. He needed to go somewhere and think. He couldn't be here right now.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, which caused him to cough sharply. Doubling over in pain, he held onto his chest with one hand and used the other hand to support himself against the wall. He cringed at the sight of the thick, yellow mucus that covered his right hand and quickly made his way out of the main house to the pool house where he could wash his hands.

Not even a minute later, he grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge near his bed before turning around to grab his gray hooded sweatshirt.

He had held onto a few possessions from his former life that gave him a source of familiar comfort and allowed him to still feel connected to his roots despite living in this plush, peculiar town—a town he knew he'd never fit into.

These items included his worn, black boots, his gray hoodie, his wrist cuff, his choker, which he now kept in a small shoebox under his bed, and a black toy Camaro that Trey had given to him when he was younger as a symbolic memory of their childhood together. It was during times of high stress that he clung to these memories the most.

Ryan had never been a big smoker, even in Chino, and he had quit completely since moving to Newport, but during stressful moments like this, he did miss the relaxed feeling he got from sharing a cigarette with Theresa or Trey on the nights he needed an escape from his mom's boyfriends because she was too wasted to pay attention to him—let alone protect him. To some degree, he was starting to miss Chino. Even though his life in Newport had at times seemed uncomplicated, he knew that nothing in life was uncomplicated. Realizing there was no way he could talk to Theresa or Trey tonight since he didn't have a phone number for either of them, he hoped going for a walk by the beach would at least help to calm his nerves a little.

* * *

"Sandy, did you hear that? That wasn't Ryan, was it?" Kirsten asked—a pang of guilt creeping into her voice. "Please tell me it wasn't Ryan."

"It was Ryan. Nobody else in this family has been coughing like that," He replied, agitated.

"I thought you said he was fine? Didn't Dr. Canales say he was fine?"

"Yes, but he's been wearing himself out..."

"You don't think he heard our conversation, do you?" She asked—her eyes wide with anxiety.

"You mean all the yelling?" He shot back incredulously—a little more harshly than he intended to. "Even the people living in Timbuktu probably heard us, Kirsten!" He took a deep breath to calm himself and then lowered his voice. "We weren't exactly quiet. I just hope he's okay. I'm going to go look for him."

"I'll go with you...," Kirsten offered pleadingly.

"No. I think it's best you stay here. He trusts me the most at the moment. I'll go talk to him. You wait here with Seth for the delivery guy."

* * *

"I had a feeling I'd find you here," Sandy said in his usual upbeat voice as he spotted Ryan's lone figure seated on the damp sand—his knees drawn in towards his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.

"The beach is always a nice place to clear your head. I personally prefer relaxing over a game of golf, but nothing beats a good surf," Sandy continued.

Although he could feel Sandy watching him, he refused to make eye contact and instead remained in his position staring out into the vast ocean. The sun had already set and the moon's light reflected over the rippling water.

Noticing how confused and upset Ryan looked, Sandy took a step closer to him and cautiously asked, "Is it okay if I sit down next to you?"

Ryan merely nodded his head once—his attention still focused on the waves.

"You okay, kid?" Sandy asked kindly. Ryan shrugged.

"So I take it you overheard me and Kirsten arguing...," Sandy went on, taking a seat next to Ryan.

"I don't really feel like talking right now," Ryan sighed.

"That's too bad 'cause I'm just getting started," Sandy replied warmly with a genuine smile.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Ryan said, trying to hide his own smile. He turned his head to finally meet Sandy's thoughtful gaze.

"But hey," Sandy smiled again, patting Ryan's shoulder. "You don't have to talk. Just listen."

Ryan nodded his head again so Sandy continued.

"I'm not sure exactly what you overheard, and by the look on your face, I don't think you're ready to tell me, but I love you and even if you think otherwise, Kirsten does love you. She just needs some more time to get over a few insecurities, but she'll come around. She really does want to get to know you."

"She sure has a way of showing it," Ryan muttered to himself quietly.

He was relieved that Sandy didn't hear him... or at least it seemed that way since he showed no reaction to the comment. Then again, as a lawyer, his foster father was definitely good with the mind games so Ryan decided he needed to be more careful with his choice of words.

He felt trapped. He knew Sandy meant well, but that still wasn't enough to solace his insecurities. As much as he thought he was opening up to the idea of Newport being his home, especially earlier in the car as the man he looked up to drove him back from his game, he realized that Newport was far from his home. However, neither was Chino. Ryan felt lost and confused—unsure of his place in the world. No matter how hard he tried to please everyone, all he ever seemed to do was make everyone's life worse.

"I guess you're through talking. I was hoping to at least get another shrug or sideways glance out of you," Sandy joked.

Ryan forced a tiny smile. He had to give Sandy credit for always trying. No one else had ever cared so much before.

"That's alright. Think about what I said though. Can I get you to join us for dinner?" Sandy inquired, hopeful. "We ordered pizza. Kirsten called while I was looking for you. She said she wasn't sure what toppings you wanted so she went ahead and ordered plain cheese. I know you like mushrooms and sausage. It isn't too late for me to order another pizza with those toppings if you'd like."

"Thanks, but... plain cheese will do," Ryan answered.

It was nice to know that Sandy remembered his favorite pizza toppings even if Kirsten hadn't, but he wasn't exactly hungry and he didn't want to put Sandy out of his way or have him spend any extra money. Ryan already felt bad enough for interfering with their family dynamic, and he couldn't let the Cohens go out of their way just for him.

"Is everything okay?" Sandy asked, noticing how withdrawn the kid looked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Just... really out of it...," Ryan admitted, stifling a yawn. "Is it cool if I just crash early tonight?"

Sandy glanced at his watch. It was only eight o'clock and the kid already looked like he'd stayed up several nights in a row. He could read in between the lines and also knew Ryan was trying to avoid dinner with the family, but he felt it wasn't the right time to push him.

"Let me at least bring a slice of pizza to your room later. That way you'll have some nourishment. You need to re-fuel for tomorrow."

Ryan agreed and Sandy helped him up, guiding him to the Rover.

* * *

The next morning, Sandy knocked on the pool house door—a cup of coffee in hand. When Ryan didn't answer, he turned the door handle and stepped in to make sure he was alright. His eyes darted around the large room in search of his foster son, but all he saw was the already made bed and a stack of folded clothes on top of the cubbyhole adjacent to the bathroom. He frowned when he noticed the untouched slice of pizza on the small table next to Ryan's bed.

A note lay on Ryan's study desk, and Sandy suddenly experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. Had Ryan run away?

But as he scanned the note, he sighed in relief.

_**Dear Sandy and Kirsten, **_

_**I went to visit Luke before practice. I'll see you tonight. **_

_**Ryan**_

"Of course he went to visit Luke," thought Sandy. "That's who Ryan is," He chuckled and then left the room.

* * *

"Chino! Dude, what's up?" Luke exclaimed, sitting up on his bed as Ryan entered his hospital room.

"How're you feeling?" Ryan asked, flashing the other boy a concerned smile. He quickly bumped fists with him before taking a seat next to the bed.

"Better... after hearing you won the game yesterday. Shitty knowing I didn't get to play. My dad told me about your game winning assist. Congrats, dude. You kicked ass out there. I wish I could have seen it."

"There'll be other times," Ryan answered, briefly breaking eye contact with Luke. His mind kept drifting to Kirsten and Sandy's argument from the night before.

"Dean came to see me yesterday after the game," Luke said.

"That's cool, man," Ryan replied—almost mechanically.

"He told me Manny tried to hurt you on the field yesterday. I swear, if I see that kid around... I'm gonna kick his ass for laying a hand on you."

Several seconds of silence passed by, and Luke finally noticed how Ryan didn't seem to be altogether there.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked, worried.

Ryan remained quiet—his eyes now fixated on a small spot on the linoleum floor.

"Ryan?"

"Huh?" Ryan looked up.

"What's wrong?" Luke repeated.

"Oh... uh, nothing. Just tired," Ryan gave a half smile, hoping Luke wouldn't press the issue further. He wasn't ready to talk about his insecurities, especially when it came to the Cohens. To make matters worse, his limbs felt heavy and overused. Every muscle in his body was sore, and his chest was killing him.

"Still coughing, huh?" Luke asked, bothered by the fact that his best friend had been coughing on and off since entering the room.

Ryan didn't answer and instead just rolled his eyes. His health was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"You don't look so good...," Luke persisted.

"Just drop it, okay!" Ryan snapped. It had been a while since Luke had seen Ryan so uptight and agitated. Something had to be terribly wrong.

Ryan quickly recognized Luke's confused and shocked expression and guilt took over.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...," He apologized.

"No worries," Luke interjected.

"I'll visit you again later, but I've a... I've got to get to practice," Ryan stood up, grabbing his backpack.

Luke frowned, noticing how pale his friend looked. In his mind, he questioned whether or not Ryan was even healthy enough to practice. He just looked... off. Then again, he didn't want to upset him more so he just nodded.

Ryan turned to leave, but then hesitated and turned back around.

"I'm sorry... for not staying longer. It's just... well I road my bike here and practice is at—," He rambled until Luke cut him off.

"Hey, if anyone knows about running late to practice, it's me. Don't worry about it. I get it," Luke assured him.

Ryan flashed him an appreciative smile.

"Well, thanks for stopping by," Luke smiled back. "See ya later?"

Ryan gave him a half nod and quietly left the room, leaving Luke with an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

* * *

The team had already been practicing for an hour in the grueling heat, and Ryan could no longer keep up with his teammates. His legs felt like lead, and all he could think about was taking a cold shower, collapsing onto the pool house bed, and forgetting the day ever happened.

"Atwood, over here!" Coach Nielson called him from across the field. Ryan obeyed and slowly caught up to him.

"You okay?" The coach asked—his features etched with concern.

Ryan wiped a bead of sweat from his damp forehead and shrugged weakly, rolling his eyes inwardly. If one more person asked him that question, he swore he'd punch a hole through a wall.

"Just one more play, and then I'll let you sit out the rest of practice, alright?"

"Sure. Okay," Ryan agreed, still trying to catch his breath. He was too tired to argue.

"Keep focused. I know you're tired, but you can do it," Coach Nielson patted him on the back and held out a bottle of water, which Ryan accepted. He took a few sips of the cold liquid before sluggishly making his way back onto the field to meet the rest of his teammates.

Coach Nielson blew the whistle and the scrimmage continued.

Dean darted across the field, accepting a head bunt from Chip as Ryan struggled to keep up with them.

Only a few seconds later, Dean passed the ball off to Ryan who kicked it out of bounds before collapsing to the ground, painfully clutching his chest.

Immediately, the coach blew the whistle and everyone on the team gathered around Ryan, who was panting uncontrollably.

"Hurts," Ryan croaked.

"What hurts, Ryan? What hurts?" Coach Nielson panicked.

"Chest," He managed to say in between shallow breaths. He shut his eyes—a single tear escaping onto his cheek.

Coach Nielson tried to assess him, but Ryan squirmed from under his touch—still holding onto his chest. As Ryan's eyes became disoriented, his breathing became more and more shallow and his lips began turning blue.

Reaching a hand into his pocket hastily to pull out his cell phone, Coach Nielson ordered Dean to call for an ambulance.

"Ryan, stay with me, okay? I need you to stay with me. You're going to be okay," Coach Nielson soothed him.

During the minutes that followed, Ryan slipped in and out of consciousness. While he had experienced varying degrees of pain in Chino, nothing had ever felt this bad. Not only did it feel like a ton of bricks lay on his chest, but he also felt like he was drowning.

From a distance, he could hear the ambulance sirens approaching. Coach Nielson was still begging him to keep his eyes open, and he tried to hold his gaze and focus on his breathing, but after another minute passed, his body gave out and he shut his eyes again—a couple more tears spilling onto his pale cheeks.

By the time the paramedics reached him, he had become almost completely unaware of his surroundings, and within minutes he lost consciousness, fighting for his life.

**A/N 2: Yes, I know I'm evil, LOL. I left you guys with another mean cliff hanger. Don't worry. I promise that in the next chapter you will know what disease poor Ryan has and you will begin to see how this disease ties into his past and also his relationships with Sandy, Luke, Seth, and Kirsten.**


	5. Chapter 5

Hi all! Thank you for all who have read and reviewed the first few chapters of this story! I am very humbled and grateful to see how well-liked this story has been so far among OC fans. I truly apologize for not updating in such a long time. I had written Chapter 5 (which was just about as long as the 4th chapter) a while ago (early 2012), but that computer crashed and I had pretty much lost everything, which was very frustrating. Then I started law school and a fellowship doing scientific research and have literally had no time to write. However, I promise that the wealth of knowledge I have on social services, the workings of a hospital, and the disease/disorder Ryan has in this story, which you will find out in a couple of chapters, is a lot better now that I have completed over a year of law school (focusing on healthcare law), have worked with social workers and in a hospital setting, and have researched (and continue to research) genetic disorders/disease mechanisms.

That being said, I have regained the inspiration to write this story, but it will be a work in progress because of its complexity and the nature of Ryan's affliction (which I promise has never been covered in another OC fanfiction story). Please leave me a review/comment if you are interested in me completing this story and if you are willing to wait several months for me to post the next chapter. I am a full-time law student who is also working and doing genetic research so I have very limited time until winter break, but if fans of this story are willing to hold on a little longer, I promise to give them something great and well worth the wait!

Thanks so much everyone for your patience!


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